


There's a Class for This

by Taisho



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, F/M, Family, Family History, Friendship, Gen, Good Malfoy Family, Good Severus Snape, He still loves Remus though, He's not that bad though, Hogwarts, Lucius isn't innocent though, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Metamorphmagus, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Pre-Hogwarts, Sirius has a child, Slow Build, Sneaky Lucius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taisho/pseuds/Taisho
Summary: How would events have changed if Sirius had a son?Sirius had a son with a minor Pureblood witch. The birth was announced in the paper on the day he was born as “New Black Heir”. No first name was released.A year later, the world went wild as the Potter family were attacked, leaving just their son alive. Sirius Black was locked away in Azkaban for the apparent betrayal and subsequent murders. In the chaos of the following years, his wife dies and their child gets sent to live in a Muggle orphanage to keep him separated from the Magic world, where his father is viewed as a devil.Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, having heard of this injustice, persuades Lucius to use his ministry ties to find the child and raise him. Lucius agrees, having believed Sirius to be one of the Dark Lord’s closest followers.(TL;DR Sirius had a kid, Narcissa wants it. Lucius goes along with it ‘cause Sirius was obviously the best death eater ever to have evaded his notice)





	1. Muggles, Magic and Meeting the Malfoy's

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is the first fanfic that I've written. I've read a lot and lurked on here for a long time. Really. Only just plucked the courage to make an account though haha.  
> I tend to ramble a bit, so chapters might be a bit long? It's kinda slow to start too, sorry. Backstory ya know.  
> Time skips begin after chapter 3, to speed the story up a bit. Hogwarts will probably happen at around chapter 5, depending on how people think my pace is.  
> Will eventually be M/M, but not for a long while yet.

**Chapter 1 - Muggles, Magic and Meeting the Malfoy's**

(1988)

The Malfoy family pride themselves on wealth, connections, and blood purity. Lucius Malfoy, the Lord of the family, presented a cold front to the outside world and many would call him ruthless regarding getting what he wanted. He had served the Dark Lord Voldemort in the last wizarding war; at first with a passion almost unmatched. After all, many of the Dark Lord’s ideals were similar to his own.

As the war progressed, however, Lord Voldemort’s insanity caused by too many dark rituals began to show through, causing more damage to their own war efforts than to the opposition. He could not help feeling some relief when the Potter’s spawn did the impossible and caused his Lord’s demise, even though Lucius could not quite believe that the Dark Lord was permanently deceased.

Of course, the aftermath of his destruction brought forth some negative consequences for Lucius and his reputation, due to accusations of involvement with the notorious Death Eaters. Imprisonment in Azkaban was avoided easily enough, after all, Lucius still had his wealth and had worked hard playing his role of a sycophant to many important people over time. Feigning having been held under the Imperius curse was easy enough once he’d. . . _persuaded_. . . many Ministry officials to listen to his side of the story.

The years following the Dark Lord’s defeat and the Death Eater trials were spent in relative peace. The wizarding world began rebuilding itself and Lucius turned inwards to focus more on his family, whilst maintaining some presence within the Ministry. Therefore, at his wife Narcissa’s guidance, he was trying to reunite the Black family – what remained of them, anyway. Whilst Lucius was not quite comfortable enough to reduce himself to allow the reintroduction of Andromeda and her filthy Mudblood husband and daughter, he was eager to find out just where the Ministry had placed Sirius Black’s child.

Sirius had trumped them all, and Lucius felt some slight pride at how brilliantly Slytherin he must really be. To spend _all those years_ , from childhood to adulthood, denying his claim as the Black heir, being sorted into Gryffindor and cavorting with Mudbloods and half-breeds in the Order of the Phoenix, only then to betray them all by revealing the Potters' location, and going on a manic rampage to kill 13 muggles and an old friend in his despair over the reported death of the Dark Lord. It was amazing how, in all his years as one of the Dark Lord’s closest advisers, he had never come across Black. However, the Dark Lord kept his spies very closely guarded and would only smirk and hint that it was someone very close to the Potter family. It truly was a shame that Sirius was reckless enough to get caught in the act and instantly placed in Azkaban for life.

The hunt for Sirius Black’s child began in 1985, when Lucius and Narcissa had regained their status as one of the finest wizarding families in Great Britain. They had been trying for another child since the Dark Lord’s fall, as were many families. Pureblood families typically only had one to two children, aside from those blood-traitor Weasleys. However, it was not to be. Narcissa had an internal issue which meant any further pregnancies after Draco would likely kill her and produce a child with life threatening health issues.

They were devastated. They didn’t want Draco to be a lonely child and Narcissa was desperate for another child to nurture and spoil. They had read in the Daily Prophet years ago, before the fall, of Sirius Black having a child in the summer of 1980. The mother was an heiress of a minor Pureblood family and Lucius could not help wondering if that relationship was a hint towards where Sirius’ true loyalties were held.

So began the search, first they attempted to track down the mother, who had apparently fled to France after Sirius’ betrayal and imprisonment, only to find that she had passed away two years earlier, in 1983, and that the child had been sent back to Britain. Lucius went through the Ministry archives to try and find out where the child was placed, only to find that the idiots had not even placed him anywhere within the wizarding world and that he was somewhere amongst the filth of the Muggle world. They spent three years searching, to Lucius’ disdain, in Muggle records and child protective services to try and find out where the child had been placed.

Visiting multitudes of orphanages to visit any child with the surname Black, as they did not even know the child’s first name. It was draining, and Lucius contemplated giving up many times. He suggested to Narcissa the possibility of adopting some other orphaned Pureblood child. Narcissa was insistent, though, she wanted to find this link to the Black family and threatened getting back in touch with Andromeda if Lucius did not comply.

 

* * *

 

Finally, in June 1989, they found a child with the surname Black in an orphanage based in South London. A meeting was arranged and then finally it was the day to see if this child was the one they were looking for. An elderly Matron met them and invited them in for some tea whilst the child was called.

“Now, I know you think there’s a possibility that he’s your relative but I feel that I must warn you,” she said. Narcissa sent a hopeful glance at Lucius as he perked up and leaned forwards.

“Warn us?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes. . . the child, his name is Altair. An odd name, I know – and his personality matches,” the Matron sighed slightly and glanced around to gather her thoughts. “He doesn’t. . . particularly get on with the other children and there have been many strange occurrences which mostly go unresolved, however fingers always point to him.”

Lucius was gleeful. Altair – certainly odd to Muggles, sounded rather like a Black family name. Clearing his throat, he asked, “what sort of 'strange occurrences'?”

The Matron began to look uncomfortable, shifting in her seat, “Well, I hope this doesn’t make me sound incompetent – a lot of them can’t even be explained. One instance that stands out in my memory is that I was certain I saw Altair sneaking into the pantry outside of lunch hours. Only, when I followed I saw, well, I’m sure I saw him. . . _change_. Altair went into the pantry, and another child came out. Paul – he’s a child here – was suddenly standing in front of me in place of Altair.”

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance and nodded for the Matron to continue. “He quickly ran away, and when I went to confront Paul I found out that he was in a study session with one of the younger workers here and had been for the past hour.” She cringed and said, “I know, it probably sounds insane but. . .”

Lucius’ head was spinning. Altair Black, could he possibly be a Metamorphmagus? Lucius was delighted, to think that the supposed dormant Black trait had appeared in Sirius’ child! It hinted at great power.

“Hmm, that is rather odd. . . perhaps just a misunderstanding?" Narcissa spoke, softly. "Are there any other ‘incidents’ we should know about? You mentioned he does not get on with the other children. . .”

“Well, he certainly isn’t a bully so much as. . . " the Matron trailed off, sighing. "He just doesn’t seem to connect well at all with children his own age. He is frighteningly clever; his language skills seem far above his years. He’d much rather spend time with a book in the reading room than go playing outside with the others. This, of course, has caused some issues between Altair and the other children. I believe that bullying was attempted, however they could never seem to catch him. I’ve had children come up to me and rant about how he just ‘disappeared into thin air’. A child’s tale, I’m sure, however Altair does seem to have a knack for disappearing.”

The Malfoys were silently exultant. _This sounded like accidental magic._ Children often show magic like that when they perceive a threat.

“How is he with the adults?” Lucius questioned.

“He’s slightly mistrusting, I suppose. There is a slight arrogance to him, thinking he’s above most people – especially when it comes to knowledge - and a certain disregard for authority. Neither are particularly odd in a child of his age. However, with his lack of friends, I have been slightly worried. Sometimes he’s so reserved, like he bottles up everything, and withdraws from socialising at all,” she grimaced. “I’m sorry, I know I’m only talking in negatives. . .”

Altair Black sounded like a natural Pureblood heir and Slytherin to the core. Lucius was highly pleased, eager to meet the child. “I suppose behavioural difficulties are especially common in orphans. Would it be possible to see him?”

Narcissa nodded. “I feel certain that this is our lost nephew. His father also had an odd name, you see, it’s a tradition in our family. We have been anticipating meeting him for some years now and I’m sure being reunited with his rightful family will do him wonders regarding the peculiarities you have mentioned.”

They had agreed over the course of the years, that it was best to try a polite approach before coercing the muggles, despite it not being in their character. As much as Lucius detested even stepping place into the Muggle world, it was much less stressful over all, especially when they ended up being wrong in their search.

The Matron looked mildly surprised at their decision, however, she nodded after a beat. “Very well. I’m glad. . . I believe Alice, one of our employees, has taken him to the reading room to await our arrival. If you’ll just follow me. . .”

They walked down the hallway from the Matron’s office and entered the third door on the left, just barely clinging onto its hinges.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucius observed his surroundings with a slight sneer, finding the state of this ‘reading room’ to be deplorable. Mismatching wooden bookcases, most of which were broken or stood at an odd angle. Frayed and tattered books were haphazardly placed on the shelves. Odd little poufy balls which seemed to serve as chairs sat around the tables. They seemed to be made of a scratchy fabric, which looked as if it had been restitched a number of times. They were far too low to the ground to ever be comfortable, _except maybe for a house-elf, not that they should ever be allowed to sit on furniture_.

The table in the far corner was occupied by a woman with very nondescript brown hair, and a young boy with thick, lustrous, black hair. The duo looked up as the group entered and there was not a single doubt left in Lucius’ mind that this was Sirius Black’s child. Altair was a spitting image of Sirius; the hair framed his face in the same way, swooping outwards at the ends. Striking grey eyes blinked towards them as Lucius took in the boy's aristocratic nose and chin. There was some wariness in Altair’s eyes as he regarded the Malfoys. Lucius wondered how many times he had sat through meeting new people before, only to be let down. 

Alice smiled at the Malfoys and stood up to leave the room. “I’ll leave it to you,” she said to the Matron. The Matron nodded and led Lucius and Narcissa further into the room, until they stood in front of Altair. “Mr and Mrs Malfoy, this is Altair Black. Mr Black, this is the couple I have told you about.”

Narcissa smiled softly and inclined her head towards Altair. “Hello, my name is Narcissa. Formally, I’m a Black. I am the cousin of your father, Sirius Black. Looking at you now, I can tell you that you look just like him. I know that this must come as a slight shock to you, however we have been searching for you for some time.”

Altair raised his eyebrows slightly. “Hello. . .” he glanced apprehensively at the Matron and seemed to change his mind about saying anything else.

Lucius stepped forward. “My name is Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa’s husband. I am greatly pleased to meet you, Altair. We have a son around the same age as you, named Draco.”

“Hello, sir.” Altair spoke quietly.

It was rather an awkward affair; the Malfoys did not particularly know what to talk about, and they could not reveal much of the important information when they were in the presence of a Muggle.

Thankfully, the Matron seemed to pick up on the undercurrent and looked to each of them. “Well, now that you’re introduced, I’ll leave you to chat for a while. I’ll just be in my office, if that’s okay with you," she said, and left, the door creaking as she went.

Narcissa smiled gently at Altair before glancing at Lucius and indicating that they should sit. They did so, much to Lucius’ internal despair over being reduced to sitting on one of those odd poufy structures. He patted one, feeling the unusual material and was surprised to find that he could feel lots of miniature beads leaving an impression of his recently departed fingers.

 

* * *

 

 

“I expect that there are. . . _many_. . . things you feel curious about. I assure you that you are welcome to ask anything you wish, no matter how _odd_  you may think it,” Lucius said, hoping to guide Altair to talk about his latent magic.

Altair’s eyes narrowed and he glared at the door behind them, muttering something that sounded like “she told them I’m a freak”, under his breath.

“You are not a freak, Altair – may I call you that? – We believe that you are _special,_ ” Narcissa countered, after exchanging a knowing look with Lucius.

Altair spun his glare on the Malfoy couple, raising an eyebrow. “Special?” he asked derisively.

Lucius’ eye twitched as he tried to refrain from scolding the boy. It was not his fault he was ignorant, after all. “Yes. The Matron informed us of some of your rather extraordinary feats. If you tell us about them, perhaps we could explain them to you” he said, as calmly as possible. “Especially as we ourselves have experience in doing what others, particularly here, would consider reprehensible.”

Altair’s eyes darted to the door again before he levelled a reluctant gaze upon Lucius. “Like what?” he asked, with intrigue.

Lucius debated with himself how to broach the subject of being a wizard. “A fine example may be the feeling of wanting to be somewhere very badly, that suddenly I find myself there. The Matron told us that you were very good at vanishing. This is something that we can do with ease, after training.”

Altair frowned and looked with interest at Narcissa. “Can you do this too? The people here tell me I’m a freak or call me a liar when I tell them I can teleport.”

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. “Well, I can’t say anything about this. . . teler-port? However I, too, can instantaneously travel from one place to another.”

Altair’s face had fallen when Narcissa did not recognise the word ‘teleport’, and Lucius hoped it did not mean that he would now withdraw from them. “Perhaps a demonstration would be beneficial?” Lucius asked as he stood.

“Watch me closely now, I’m going to go from here to the other side of the room. Be warned, it’s rather noisy.” With that, Lucius spun on his heel and Apparated with a bang to one of the rickety bookcases on the other side of the room, creating a cloud of dust as he knocked a few battered books from their perch. He looked over at Altair and Narcissa and saw Altair’s face lit up with glee, although his hand was gripping the table, knuckles whitening with reticent amazement.

“That’s _teleporting_!” he gasped excitedly, “Yes, yes, that’s what I can do! Usually I just end up teleporting out of the other’s reach, though, and it doesn’t happen much,” he added, with a disappointed frown.

Lucius strode back to the table and reclaimed his… _seat_ , though he was loath to call it such. “We do not call that ‘teleporting’ as you do. To us, it is known as ‘Apparition’, or ‘Apparating’. It is uncommon for a child to be able to do it, however under certain circumstances it is not unheard of. You will find that the ability for you to accomplish Apparition will fade slightly and it’s dangerous to attempt it as you get older, until you are of age to retrain and get a license.”

Altair looked bewildered, “App. . . Apparition?” he asked. “What do you mean you get a license? Nobody I’ve met even believed I can do it!” he said, aghast with anticipation at all the opportunities that were starting to present themselves to him.

Narcissa smiled. “As we told you before, Altair, you’re special. In fact, more than that. . . you are a wizard. Being able to do things such as moving from one place to another, altering appearances, and much more, are common in our world.”

“A wizard? . . . like in the books?” Altair asked, incredulously. “And you’re wizards too? _Riiight_. . . Next, you’ll be telling me that dragons are real or something. Is this a prank?”

Lucius sneered, “I highly doubt that the Muggles have dreamt up any tales that are anything close to the reality of wizardkind. I am indeed a wizard, however, my wife is a witch. Dragons certainly do exist; I've had the privilege of witnessing their majesty in person. However, most are kept in dragon conserves around the world now, due to dwindling numbers, so they need to be preserved.” He watched Altair’s face as that sank in before adding “this is not a ‘prank’, nor are you dreaming. Magic is very much real.” He said with impatience, gesturing indignantly.

Altair’s eyes were wide and his mouth was slack. He snapped his mouth shut and blinked three times before speaking. “I. . . I’m not sure if I believe you, about the dragons, at least,” he said, glancing at the couple suspiciously.

He bit his lip, “W-Would you show me more? Like, change your hair, or. . . show me some other ‘magic’,” he requested. “And what’s a Muggle!?”

Narcissa thought that Altair was taking this all very well, considering. “A Muggle is someone with non-magical blood, and unable to perform any magic at all. We can discuss the different terms at a later time. As for changing my hair colour, this can most certainly be done by using potions or certain glamour charms. Depending on the type of potion, the change can last up to around three weeks, whereas the charm only lasts two hours maximum, unless reversed. As I don’t have the potion handy, I shall perform the charm.”

Narcissa removed her wand from the holster on her arm and then, after explaining to Altair what a wand was, began waving it in an intricate pattern around the top of her head.

“ _Piloria Colovaria_ . . . **_Brunus_**!” She exclaimed in a clear voice.

Lucius and Altair watched as her long, sleek blonde hair began changing into a warm brown from the roots outwards, gradually turning her hair colour brown until the spell reached the tips. Narcissa smiled and flipped her hair slightly as she took in Altair’s expression. His face was full of joy and amazement at this new revelation, and Lucius looked on proudly at his wife.

“Now do you believe us?” Narcissa questioned. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to remove the charm so that the Matron doesn’t see - she seems rather astute for a Muggle.”

Narcissa straightened up, and angled her wand towards her head. “ _Finite Incantatem,_ ” murmuring the counter spell softly.

Altair pouted sulkily as the charm dissipated, and her hair returned to its natural state.

“That was amazing! But when I do it, I haven’t had the potion and I didn’t know the charm. . .” he said bemusedly.

Lucius nodded, having expected this question and hastened to explain.

“Well, accidental magic can work in mysterious ways, such as when you wanted to change your features to look like someone else to avoid getting into trouble.”

Altair looked down guiltily and opened his mouth, but Lucius cut in before he could retort.

“There is, however, a skill that is passed through the generations of the Black family line. It is called being a ‘Metamorphmagus’. This is where someone can change their looks at will, without the assistance of spells or potions that the rest of us must rely on. Metamorphmagi can also transform into anything at will, whereas spells and potions generally must produce a specific likeness, mostly humans.”

He paused for a moment to let Altair absorb this new information, before continuing.

“The Matron mentioned an instance where she saw you enter the pantry and saw someone else come out, which confused her as the other boy was accounted for elsewhere. Did you change your appearance?”

Altair looked reluctant to respond and was avoiding eye contact, which all but confirmed his guilt. 

“We won’t be angry at you, Altair, we’re just curious whether you may have the gift, like your forefathers did,” Narcissa chimed in.

Looking between them as if to determine their honesty, Altair seemed to decide that they were being genuine. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and his face began to change. Now, instead of a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with the distinctive features of a Black, sat a relatively plain looking boy with mousy brown hair and dull brown eyes. “This is Paul. . . the boy I impersonated before,” said Altair.

Narcissa smiled and clapped her hands daintily. “Yes, that method of changing appearances is something that only a Metamorphmagus is capable of doing," Lucius said, smirking triumphantly. 

Altair grinned and quickly reverted his looks back to his regular face, pleased at their positive response. “I can’t believe it. . . could my father do it? Can you not do it, Mrs Malfoy?”

Narcissa shook her head. “No, it’s a rare familial trait, so it only manifests in certain members of our lineage. Neither I, nor your father, are Metamorphmagi. It is incredible that you have the talent.” She looked at him proudly, hiding her jealousy within. _To think that Altair is blessed with such a coveted trait, whilst Draco was forsaken. . ._

Altair blushed slightly and bowed his head, shying from the praise. Lucius doubted he ever received much recognition for his talents and intelligence. How could he have, stuck in this dull, oppressive, Muggle orphanage. It is truly a shame that the Ministry had abandoned him to the Muggle world. This Pureblood child has been unforgivably stifled, unable to assert his rightful status. However, it is not yet too late to begin cultivating the boy to be the true Pureblood heir he was born to be.

 

* * *

 

 

“How are you feeling, Altair? Would you like to come and live with us? There is a lot we must discuss and a lot for you to catch up on," he enquired, lifting himself with difficulty from the monstrous Muggle chair. "However, here is not the place. I can go and notify the Matron now, unless there is some reason that you’d like to stay here. . ." he trailed off, giving a scornful glance around the dismal room they were in.

Altair shook his head vigorously. “No way, sir! I hate it here!” he cried, terrified that they might leave without him. He took a breath to calm himself down and looked at Narcissa, his newfound hope of having a real family. "I’d like to come live with you. If you'll have me. . ." he said timidly, half expecting them to reveal it was all a ruse.

Narcissa smiled at the boy's needless concern. “Of course, dear. We’d love to have you living with us. It’s been a long journey to find you, Altair. You were lost to our world, your kin, hidden amongst these lowborn Muggle degenerates.” She stood up and walked around the table, sour-faced from using the word Muggle, which always leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She bent down to give Altair a hug. His arms remained stiffly at his sides at first, before hugging her back a bit awkwardly. Lucius decided to leave them to solidify their blossoming relationship, and notify the Matron that they were ready to do the paperwork to enable them to take him away from this dreary establishment.

Lucius walked along the badly-decorated corridor, peeling off some loose wallpaper absent-mindedly as he sauntered back to the office. He hoped to give Narcissa and Altair some time to bond, as he was not one to partake in overly emotional displays. He knocked briskly on the brittle office door, noting its curious fist-shaped dents as he entered.

The Matron looked up. “Ah! Mr Malfoy. How was the young Mr Black? Not too much trouble, I hope?”

Lucius narrowed his eyes and sneered, “No, he was no trouble at all. We are positive now that Altair is our long-lost nephew, and what a dear he is. We would like to complete the necessary documents promptly,” he said, giving the Matron a stern look that indicated he did not suffer idle dalliance from those beneath him.

The Matron seemed intimidated, but reacted obediently. “W-well. Of course," she stuttered, slightly taken aback.

She hasten to rummage through the shabby drawers to her left, frantically looking for Altair's adoption papers. “Ah, here we go! Now, we don’t usually do a simple signing on the same day. Usually we schedule visits and it’s a lengthy process to make sure that the child is being placed correctly. However, your case seems. . .special," she added nervously, keen not to induce further scorn from Lucius' haunting eyes. "I have the letter here from the social worker who has been aiding you with your search. It all seems to be in working order. I will just need your, and your wife’s, signatures, please.” She was keen now just to send these strange folk on their way, with an even stranger child. The sooner the better.

Lucius called Narcissa and Altair into the office and they all crowded around the desk. Such a pokey room, Lucius thought with distaste. _Not even fit to be a broom cupboard_. The Matron began to finalise the adoption process, faster than was customary; Altair was an oddity, and a troublemaker. It was in the interest of the other children to have rid of him without delay.

* * *

 

 

After what seemed like hours, the papers were finally signed. Lucius was sure he could have made the process a whole lot faster and smoother, if he had resorted to his usual methods of magically influencing people for personal gain. However, they were trying to do this as properly as they could, traceably too. Hence their use of the Mudblood liaison they had hired as a social worker. Narcissa wanted Altair to officially re-join their family, by law - in Muggle terms as well as their own.

He looked down at the new addition to his family. “Altair, if there is anything specific you would like from your room to bring to our home, you may go and gather them now. However, as for clothing and books, we will be able to replace everything and buy new. . . expense is no issue to us,” he suggested, attempting to prevent any Muggle items contaminating his household, full of wondrous rare and magical artifacts of great value.

Altair decided to leave most of his books at the orphanage for the other children to read, and aside from a tattered teddy-bear, he left the rest of his belongings.

Narcissa and Lucius shook hands with the Matron as they were shown out and once they were around the corner, and Lucius had suitably Scourgified his hand, he turned to Altair. “Now, you’ll remember that I told you about Apparition. This is how we will be getting to Malfoy Manor, our ancestral home. I will Side-Along Apparate with you. You must stand as close as possible so I can hold you tightly for your safety.”

Altair nodded and stepped closer to Lucius, who reached out and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. With a twist and a pop, they were standing just within the wards on the outskirts of Malfoy Manor, just past the wrought iron gate.

Lucius wanted Altair to see the manor in all its splendour, and splendorous it was. A high hedge encompassed them on both sides, impressive but not intimidating in its size. The bright, verdant, yew hedge was a stark contrast to the fine gravel path they were walking along to get the main manor house. The enormous manor was visible from this distance, with its magnificent stone walls, covered with fine strands of creeping moss, and tall crystal windows glimmering spectacularly in the noon sun. The hedge-rowed walkway opened into a circular area with a large marble fountain, engraved with the Malfoy coat of arms; green, black, and silver serpentine figures were charmed to slither around an ornate 'M'.

Walking past the fountain, they could see the gardens surrounding them as they got closer to the building. White peacocks strutted around peacefully flaunting their stunning plumage, and the various arrangements of flora and fauna were marvellously enchanting.

The trio ascended the marble steps towards the gigantic dark oak doors, which swung inwards and wide at their approach. It revealed a vast stone floor, covered almost entirely in a magnificent, viridian green carpet. The interior was decorated to the usual Malfoy tastes of unrestrained extravagance and expense. 

It was a far cry from the run down, muted grey, and depressing orphanage building in which Altair had spent much of his lifetime, and he was jittery with nerves and excitement of what the future held.


	2. Altair's Arrival

**Chapter 2 - Altair's Arrival**

 

The Malfoys and their new addition stepped into the grand foyer of the manor, and were greeted by a pure, blessed, silence. Lucius had ordered Draco to spend the day at his friend Blaise Zabini’s, as he always did when they followed up a lead. The house elves were asked, no, _commanded_ to remain out of sight unless called for. He did not want to overwhelm the child with an array of magical creatures, scurrying hither and thither as he tried to acclimatise himself to new surroundings.

As it was around lunch time, Lucius decided that they would be better off sitting in the smaller tea room as opposed to one of the dining halls. He indicated his preference to Narcissa and Altair, and sent them to freshen up. Once they were out of the room, he rung the service bell to summon a house elf and requested a hearty lunch for their new arrival.

He decided that they should eat before discussing anything, and refused to answer Altair’s questions until after they had finished. A gentleman never enters into serious discussion without a full stomach. The tea room they ate in was one without any portraits, and void of magical excess; he did not want to scare the boy.

After a wonderful lunch, Altair was compelled to offer his compliments to the house-elf chef, which caused much amusement but left the couple rather perplexed. Lucius and his wife gave Altair a grand tour of their home, shooing the house-elves away as they went. Altair was amazed by the moving, talking portraits that lined the dimly lit, almost haunting corridors. He found it interesting, and slightly bizarre, to see so many people with blond hair like Lucius.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is the library. I understand that you are an avid reader? You are allowed to read any books that are accessible to you in this room. Some books we own, obviously, are far too dangerous and mature for you or Draco to read, so they are locked away.” Lucius explained, his eyes darting briefly in the direction of his restricted bookcase, which was enchanted with an Age Line. Only adults could peruse its mysteries without suffering horrible, yet temporary, disfigurements.

Altair's mouth was completely agape at this point, eager to learn everything there was to know in his new uncle's ancient tomes. He looked gormless, with almost Muggle-like stupidity. Lucius had to remind himself not to chide Altair yet. He could not help his manners when Muggles were his only references for how to behave; clearly barbarians will breed barbarians, and vulgarity will reproduce like a plague.

“This is AMAZING! I can’t believe how many books are in here! Are they all about magic? How can books be dangerous? Can I _really_ read anything?” Altair asked, looking around himself wildly and practically dancing on the spot.

Narcissa let out a soft chuckle at the child’s excited babbling. “Not all are directly about magic but essentially, yes. Books in the magic world can indeed be dangerous, and not just in the knowledge they hold. Some books are physically dangerous, layered with charms and protections that can injure people if not handled correctly. Yes, you may read anything that you can safely touch in this library. All of our books are protected so that Draco, and now you, can only read the ones safe for you.” She smiled as Altair looked around quietly in wonderment.

They left the library and carried on their tour. They approached the children’s wing, which is where Draco’s room, Altair’s room and a play room are located.

Lucius and Narcissa decided that it would be best to guide Altair to his room so that he could get a rest. His seemed drained from such an overwhelming few hours; there was so much to take on mentally, and he needed time to process recent events and recuperate his strength.

 

Altair was amazed by the sheer size of his room. Not just the room! His bed was ginormous; a four poster with the accustomary green and silver curtains! He had a curiously expansive wardrobe that seemed far too deep to be physically possible, but by now he suspected magic was to play and questioned it no further. Narcissa promised him that they would go shopping at some point to fill said wardrobe to bursting, even though its contents were already as vast and varied as he had ever imagined. He had his own bathroom, which had a beautiful porcelain bath, toilet and sink, all enameled with stylised serpents and filigree. Altair noticed the bath had a barrier over it.

“Just a safety measure, the barrier will be removed when you can be properly supervised,” Lucius explained – and what an enormous bath it was! Altair didn’t even know what to feel anymore, he was astounded.

They moved to the playroom and Altair began to look over-tired from taking in his new surroundings. 

“Would you please tell me more about magic?” he said, with drooping eyes as he looked up at Lucius. “Do you know anything about my family?”

Lucius debated where to begin. He was not yet sure which direction to take when addressing the issue of Sirius; tact was not a normal trait among Malfoys, but he would try his best. Guiding Altair and Narcissa to his office in the adults’ wing, he indicated for them to sit. Having seen how Altair looked at the library so avidly, Lucius decided that an explanation of Hogwarts may be worthwhile.

“As a wizarding child begins to age, they start to show their magic through various outlets. Some can be quite dangerous, such as exploding items or summoning dangerous objects. Others can be quite useful, as a means to evade danger, such as an accidental cushioning charm, or, like you, accidental apparition.” Lucius watched Altair to check if he was following. Lucius was worried that he may be using words too big for an eight-year-old, however, Altair seemed ahead of his years. Draco was much the same.

“Although exciting, accidental magic can be extremely problematic if not handled correctly. A child with unmanaged magic can present a great risk to themselves and others if they do not receive proper training or education. In Great Britain, children from the age of 11 attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hogwarts, for short. Here, children are sorted into Houses where they remain for seven years,” Lucius explained.

Altair looked surprised. “There’s an actual school? Where is it? What classes are there?” he asked. Altair thought Hogwarts was a funny name for a school, but he stifled a giggle out of respect for his new guardians.

Narcissa huffed a soft laugh. “Yes, there’s a school. . . the most magnificent feat of magic and architecture ever created. Several _lesser_  schools are spread across Europe and the rest of the world. Hogwarts is located in Scotland and is kept hidden from Muggles – you remember those are non-magic people? There are many classes, which you will attend when you are enrolled. You will take part in lessons with Draco here at home before you go so that you are prepared. The main subjects you take are Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Herbology, Defence against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Charms. In the third year, students get to choose further classes.”

Altair looked excited at the prospect of attending classes. “Why does it start at eleven?” he asked, pouting slightly. He found it difficult to hide his impatience.

“Formal schooling begins at age eleven as that is when children’s magical cores have matured enough to handle purposefully channelled magic,” Lucius explained. “Now, as interesting as that all is, you’ll find out more in your classes with Draco, and I believe you had another question, about your family. You are the son of Sirius Black and Efora Brenmore. Your father, Sirius is the cousin of Narcissa. Your mother was the last descendent of the Brenmore clan who lived in Ireland. I believe she attended Beauxbatons Academy, which is a magic school in France. Inferior to Hogwarts, of course, but not without its occasional merits.”

“I know my mum. . . died. And I know that my father is a bad man. . .” Altair said, shyly, hoping to be convinced otherwise.

Lucius and Narcissa were surprised. “What makes you say Sirius is a bad man?” Narcissa inquired gently.

Altair’s brow furrowed, “Th-They told me. At the home,” he grumbled, biting his lip. “They said that he was an evil man who hurt lots of people.”

“Who is ‘they’? Someone specifically? The Matron?” Lucius asked, slightly concerned. It was a Muggle orphanage, they should have no clue.

“No, not her. Marta and Otis, the cleaners. They showed me a newspaper about him, with his picture on. I didn’t like it, he looked scary. Is he really bad? Evil? Am I evil because of him?” Altair questioned anxiously.

_Ah, of course. Sirius was imprisoned for killing muggles. It was such a major incident that it couldn’t have been covered up, so perhaps the muggle news printed a story on it._

“It’s more complicated than that, Altair. There isn’t really such a thing as ‘good’ or ‘evil’, not in magic. Your father. . . yes, he attacked some people. However, there was a war going on at the time. Things like this happen in war, it doesn’t make him naturally ‘bad’. A series of events undoubtedly lead up to that chaotic scene,” Lucius placated. “He is currently in prison because he was on the supposed losing side. It goes much deeper than this, which I think would be best discussed when you are old enough to form your own opinion.” Lucius felt bad for the kid, but he still had no patience for emotional outbursts. Thankfully, Narcissa piped up to take the baton of comforting words.

“Do you really think you’re evil, Altair? From meeting you, I don’t think so. I think you’ve had a poor start to life, yes. Unfair events that you had no say in. If we could have raised you, well, at least you are here now. You can make a new start, now that you are back where you belong. Draco has been so excited to meet you!” Narcissa declared.

Altair looked slightly disbelieving but he did not dispute what Narcissa had said. Lucius could not help but feel hopeful. Although this child had been subdued in the Muggle world, it did not seem that he had been tarnished too much by the filth, the insipid Muggle scum. There was still time to mould him into a Pureblood heir, much like Draco was. Narcissa would no doubt want to take things slowly, cherish the bonding time with the boy. Lucius could see her point; however, this child was not _their_ child. He was the son of Sirius Black. The double-crossing Gryffindor blood-traitor who surprised them all with his rebellion.

“Now, I think that’s enough for now, unless you have any pressing questions?” Lucius continued after Altair shook his head solemnly. “Why don’t we show you back to your room and you can rest before Draco comes home?”

 

* * *

 

 

The Malfoys left Altair in his room to relax for a bit until their son came home. Altair was laying on his enormous bed, staring at the ceiling, his head was reeling from all the information floating around in his brain. He looked around at his room; the silver lined walls, a giant oak wardrobe and elaborately engraved mirror were beautiful. A painting hung on the wall and Altair was secretly glad that there was not a person painted in there. He did not know if he would be able to cope having someone watch him at the moment. The material of the bed sheets was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Some kind of silky material, a vibrant navy colour, wonderfully soft feathered pillows. He had never been so comfortable in his life.

He was afraid to close his eyes in case he woke up and was back in that dreadful place again, with the Matron, and Alice, and all the other kids who were never his peers. He could not believe how quickly he had warmed up to the Malfoys, usually he placed himself at a distance because, honestly, adults could not be trusted. He was dreading meeting Draco too, having never really got along with any of the children at the home. Any child that tried to get close to him either got fostered too quickly or was told stories about him by the older children.

Altair bit his lip as he gazed at the painting, a nature scene of a great elm tree in a meadow, sunlight streaming through its autumn leaves. He was so scared he would mess up and the Malfoys would decide they no longer wanted him. It was hard for him to know how to function normally around people, especially in a new environment. To think that magic was real! What if it turns out he is terrible at it? What if Draco was mean to him because he did not know enough? So much anxiety permeated through his head, mature beyond his years.

He took some deep breaths and ran his hand through his hair. He had to remember how to stay calm, bad things always happened if he panicked. The sheer size of the room made him feel on edge, it was probably bigger than the whole floor of the orphanage where the boys slept. Sitting up, he traipsed into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet lid, closing his eyes and placing his hands on the sink next to him. He pictured a library scene in his mind and started placing his thoughts in books on shelves to calm himself down. Unsurprisingly, the library scene he had always used for this kind of thing had now morphed to replicate the one at this manor. Monumental bookcases sat in rows, tomes upon tomes residing within them. It managed to look aged, yet not a single speck of dust was in sight.

That was another thing! The cleanliness of this place! How on earth did the Malfoys keep this place clean? Altair could hardly picture either of the noble Malfoys getting on their hands and knees and scrubbing, he scrunched up his nose and laughed as he imagined it. Maybe they had servants? Would he have to do chores? He would not mind, but the thought of accidentally damaging anything upset him. Of course, maybe there were magic spells. . . charms, or the like, that helped with that kind of thing. He would have to find out himself.

Altair was most excited to get into the library and find everything he needed to know out. As much as Lucius and Narcissa helped to explain everything, nothing ever quite matched the detailed descriptions of topics found within books. He wondered if he had to stay in his room until Draco arrived, or if he could explore the Manor on his own? Dare he venture out by himself?

Standing, he splashed his face with water in the basin before re-entering the bedroom. _His_ bedroom. He needed to get out of it, somehow it was too daunting being in here; it was almost suffocating. He wanted to explore and really wanted to go outside to the grounds, but was scared he would get lost. He did not really want to bother the Malfoys so soon after they had left him. He had only been up here around an hour; they probably needed time away from him too.

He opened the door to the hallway and carefully edged his way out. He decided to head to the play room first, curious as to what wizard toys were like. The room seemed to be decorated with dragons as a recurring theme; a couple of dragon plushies sat in the corner, there was a dragon rocking chair pushed to one wall, and the walls were painted with a mural depicting a scene of a dragon flying over a castle. In the middle of the room there was a giant table with a model castle on it, with figurines spread haphazardly around. There were a couple of figurines on one tower that particularly stood out. Altair carefully reached in and picked up the one with the brightest robes. To his surprise, the figure seemed to come alive in his hand and waved its miniature wand at him. Tiny sparks shot out at him. Altair nearly dropped it in shock, but thankfully he managed to hold onto it, twisting it around in his hands inquisitively. He noted the name written on the bottom of the figurine and, to his surprise, he recognised it: Merlin. Was he real? Or just a character in magic lore or fiction? He really must get to that library at some point, he thought. He put the diminutive wizard back down on his tower for now, and turned to look at something else, but not before Merlin gave Altair a little wave.

There was a giant chest below the window, which Altair decided may be a toy box. He decided not to poke around in that yet though, noticing to his delight that there was a simple bookcase next to the box. Eagerly stepping towards it, he perused the titles on the shelves. There were lots of random books, some of which did not even have names, and some wizarding comics littered the bottom shelf. Certain titles Altair could make out, namely: _Simply Magic!,_   _Cordelia’s Fanciful Fables,_   _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_   _Morris, the Misfortunate Muggle,_   _The Toadstool Tales,_   _Merlin: Advisor, Shapeshifter, Wizarding Legend,_ and _A Children’s Anthology of Monsters_. He felt the pressing need to read them all, but settled on the book about Merlin, having just seen his figurine, which he glanced back at. Taking the book from the shelf with great care, he settled on the window ledge. Luckily it had padding, and he reclined against the wall, glancing out the window at the grand garden before opening the book.

_Grand Enchanter Merlin, advisor to King Arthur is perhaps the most revered Wizard of all time. Rumoured to have attended Hogwarts with the founders, it is no surprise that he achieved such greatness, a magical strength that remains unmatched. Where does the truth of the legend - for he was surely that - lay amongst all the myths that surround him? Keep reading to find out. . ._

At first Altair thought it would be a rather dry biography about Merlin, however it ended up explaining some of the feats of the man in a way that he could picture he was Merlin himself! So engrossed in the book as he was, he did not notice the sun gradually setting behind him, too busy imagining the sounds of swords clashing, spells firing, wizards chanting and dragons flying.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco and Lucius stepped out of the fireplace and into the reception room, where Narcissa was waiting for them with a smile on her face. “Dragon! Darling, how was your visit with Blaise?” she enquired, stepping forward to enclose Draco in a hug he would inevitably try to wriggle out of.

Draco pulled away from the embrace with a light grin. “Really fun! We played Gobstones and flew a little in the garden, with his mother watching us of course. But more importantly! You found him, right!? What’s he like? Can I meet him? What’s his name? Where is he?” He asked, glancing around eagerly.

Narcissa huffed a laugh at her son's enthusiasm, looking at Lucius who was shaking his head fondly. “Yes, dear, we found him; his name is Altair. He is currently in your wing, resting in the silver room. I know you’re excited to meet him, precious, but you must understand he is a little shy. He seemed happy to be collected by us and especially interested in our library! We will collect him soon for dinner, but Dragon, you must be patient with him as he is new to our world,” she stated firmly, as Draco was known to be a bit too forward when he was excitable. He always struggled to make friends outside of their inner circle, due to his overbearing nature.

Draco pouted impatiently. “When’s dinner? I want to meet him _nooow_!” he whined, before looking slightly apologetic. “I’m just so excited! Finally, I’ll have someone to play with! I’ll tell him everything he needs to know,” he expressed, puffing his chest out.

Lucius let out a slight snort at his son’s arrogance, smirking slightly.

“Dinner will be in around thirty minutes, Draco," Lucius said. "We will eat in the family dining room, of course. It will be a simpler meal than you are used to, as we hope to ease Altair into our lifestyle. I expect you to conduct yourself in a calm and polite manner. Now, why don’t we go up to your bedroom so you can change into something more suitable for dinner?” He asked, taking in Draco’s slightly ruffled robes disapprovingly.

Draco nodded fervently, bouncing back on his feet, before seeming to settle down bit and standing with his back straight, head up. His silver eyes were still glittering with hope and excitement as they set off through the floors of the manor to reach the children’s wing. As they reached the boys' bedrooms, Lucius turned to Narcissa. “Why don’t you see if Altair would like to try on some robes?” he asked, turning to usher Draco into his room to pick out an outfit.

Narcissa agreed and they separated, her head was already formulating a plan to set up a meeting with their tailor to make sure Altair was fully equipped with a wardrobe to suit all occasions. She strode up to Altair’s bedroom and knocked softly on the door. After a moment with no answer, she poked her head around the door. Seeing that Altair was not in the room, she quelled the flutter of anxiety her heart produced and looked further down the corridor, towards the playroom. They had set up wards on the wing, to alert them if Draco, and now Altair, left the perimeter into the rest of the mansion. She strode purposefully towards the playroom and gently peeked in. Altair was sat against the window, his black hair illuminated slightly under the sunlight shining through the window. His brows were pulled down slightly as he concentrated on the book in his hands, which his eyes were scouring at a rapid pace. She cleared her throat slightly, making him jump and look up, lowering the book hurriedly.

“I-I’m sorry! I just wanted to look around a bit and ended up in here!” he worried his lip, looking up at her anxiously. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t meant to leave my room!” He was sure a severe chiding was incoming.

Narcissa put her hands out in front of her in a soothing manner. “Dear, please calm down. It is no problem that you left your room, of course. You are free to explore as you wish. This wing was, after all, designed for children!”

Altair seemed to relax faintly at her words as she continued. “Now, I came to find you to tell you that Draco is here now. He’s very excited to meet you but we have agreed that we will introduce the both of you over dinner. How would you feel about trying on some wizarding robes? You might have seen the collection we have in your bedroom; however, they are mostly spares so they might not be the right size for you. I can adjust them magically, of course, but we will most certainly get the tailor in to provide more of the right kind.”

“Okay, Mrs Malfoy. . . you don’t have to get a tailor in just for me, though.” Altair said, hopping down from his perch on the window and stretching his arms in front of him.

“Nonsense,” Narcissa replied, smiling.  “And, please, call me Narcissa. Or Aunt. Follow me now, let’s go and choose an outfit for you.”

After a bit of fussing over various styles of robe, they agreed on a light blue day robe, to compliment the white shirt and grey trousers underneath. The combinations of colours made Altair’s striking grey eyes radiated, and being dressed in wizarding wear subsequently brought out the aristocratic Black features he unknowingly exhibited. He looked so much like Narcissa had remembered Sirius as a child, only without the mischievous arrogance she recalled. Feeling slightly proud, she nodded down to him. “You look marvellous, my sweet. Are you comfortable?”

Altair wiggled his arms slightly and twisted to look in the mirror, “I look kind of weird, but it feels nice, thank you.”

“Shall we go and see where Lucius and Draco have gone, and head to dinner?” she asked. Altair nodded, biting his lip again. Narcissa hoped that meeting Draco would help curb some of Altair’s shyness, and the nervous tics could be corrected through etiquette lessons.

They found Lucius and Draco sitting in the parlour on the lower ground floor. Lucius was sat in his armchair, legs crossed, with a copy of The Daily Prophet spread open in front of him. As he heard their approach, he lowered the paper and nodded to them. Draco had been sat looking at a book and fiddling with one of his chess pieces, he dropped both as Narcissa entered the room with Altair and sat up in his seat, animatedly.

Draco would have leapt out of his seat and rushed at the boy, but a stern glance from Lucius curbed his energy. Calmly stepping forward, he approached the shy looking boy who was hiding slightly behind Narcissa with a coy smile on his face.

“Hello, I’m Draco. I’m so happy to meet you! We’re going to have _sooo_ much fun together.” Draco thrust his hand forwards for Altair to shake.

Narcissa hid her smile behind her hand and watched as Altair slowly peeked out from behind her, reaching forward hesitantly to shake Draco’s hand. “H-hello. I’m Altair. Nice to meet you, too,” he stuttered out, smiling tentatively.

Draco bobbed on his feet, seeming pleased that Altair had shaken his hand. “Have you seen our playroom yet? I can’t wait until we can play something together, there’s _sooo_ much to show you. Is it true you grew up in the Muggle world like father says? I can’t wait till you see everything! Magic must be so much more fun!” he chattered breathlessly.

Altair’s lips twitched upwards a bit at Draco’s energetic manner. “Yeah, I grew up in the Muggle. . . world. I was in the playroom earlier, I didn’t play anything though! I just wanted to look. I can’t wait to learn magic,” he said bashfully, slowly coming out of his shell.

Narcissa smiled fondly down at the boys, proud of Draco’s politeness and contented by Altair responding positively. She looked up at Lucius as he cleared his throat. “There will be time for fun and games later, children. I’m sure you’re both quite peckish. Dinner must be ready now. Shall we adjourn to the dining hall?”

The dinner was a simple affair, a flavoursome vegetable soup to start, followed up by a mix of salmon cooked in an aromatic sauce, with a variety of vegetables and potatoes on the side. Dessert was succulent honey-glazed pieces of melon. Altair had seemed rather stunned by the fact they had a three-course meal and only managed half of his main course after the soup. He did however persist through eating a whole slice of melon. He had also jumped slightly when the plates disappeared and reappeared at each course. Rather than questioning where they went, however, he had something else pressing upon his mind.

“Everything is so. . . shiny here,” Altair blushed. “It’s nice though! Pretty.” He stroked the shimmering outline of his plate where he had just put down his fork. “H-how do you keep things clean? Magic?” he asked.

Lucius stroked his chin slightly. “There are indeed charms for cleaning. However, most. . . affluent. . . families, such as ours, make use of house elves. They are, servants of a kind, bound by a magical contract to serve.” At Altair’s grimace, he tilted his head and continued. “Serving is in their nature, and the majority do so not out of force or sense of duty but because they enjoy it.”

Altair nodded in understanding. “Do they get paid?” he asked, and Lucius could only just manage to hide his sneer at the question. _To think he would stoop low enough to offer the creatures a stipend!_

Narcissa sensed her husband’s discomfort and answered in his place. “Many House Elves would take offence to the offer of payment. They really do serve because they enjoy it, Altair. A hard concept to grasp, I understand. Perhaps you’d like to meet one?”

Altair bit his lip and nodded uncertainly. Narcissa clicked her fingers and called for “Hemzy!”, and the house elf popped into the room, making Altair suddenly startled. Hemzy was the head of their house elf team. In charge of looking after the younger house elves and overseeing the final touches of the Malfoys' grand events. He was also rather good with children, which is why Narcissa had chosen to call him rather than another house elf.

“What can Hemzy be doing for Mistress?” the elf asked, blinking up inquiringly at Narcissa.

“Hemzy, this is Altair, our new charge. He was curious about house elves and wanted to meet one.” Hemzy spun round and looked at Altair.

“Hemzy is being pleased to be meeting young master,” he said, bowing towards Altair who blushed and waved his hands in response.

“N-nice to meet you too, Hemzy. You don’t have to bow to me,” Altair said, cringing in embarrassment.

“Oh! Young master is being too kind to Hemzy!” The elf began bobbing on his feet, “Is there anything young master is wanting to know about house elves?” he asked.

“Please call me Altair. I-I guess I just wanted to know what house elves do and if they like it. . .”

Hemzy’s eyes went wide and darted to Lucius, who was gritting his teeth. “Hemzy is not to be calling young master by his first name. Perhaps Hemzy be calling young master as master Altair instead, if he likes it?” He questioned. At Altair’s reluctant nod, he continued. “We house elves be having many different jobs, we loves it! Hemzy looks after the littler elves and is helping master and mistress with their balls and dinners!” Hemzy stated proudly.

Altair seemed satisfied about the elf’s job satisfaction and Narcissa dismissed Hemzy, much to Lucius’s relief. They had finished eating now and the plates had been cleared. Glancing at his watch, Lucius was surprised to see that it was nearing on 9 pm.

“It is almost bedtime, boys. I trust that you enjoyed dinner?” he asked, gazing more intently at Altair. He hoped that the boy would adjust easily to the relative luxury that the Malfoys lived to enjoy. Mealtimes could certainly be much grander than the basic fare they had tonight.

“I know that you both want to play games and get familiar with one another, however I believe it is best that we retire for the night. There will be plenty of time to play tomorrow, after breakfast. Come, now.” Lucius and Narcissa led the boys through the long hallways of the manor, until they reached their wing. There, Lucius and Narcissa tucked in the boys in their respective bedrooms, lingering with Altair slightly longer as he was a bit harder to settle than Draco.

The Malfoy couple retired to their personal bed chambers once the children were safely in their beds. Lucius felt surprisingly drained and swiped a hand across his face as Narcissa poured them both a glass of Firewhisky.

Lucius smiled in silent thanks as she handed him the tumbler. “What do you think, ‘Cissy?” he asked.

“Oh, Altair seems like a lovely young boy! I think he and Draco will get on like a broom and fire once Altair lets his guard down. His mannerisms could use some work, of course. I shall have to arrange a time to train him in etiquette. Still, he seems rather intelligent and is taking everything admirably well thus far.” She gazed into the fire, the flames brightening her features, and reflecting in her platinum hair.

Lucius nodded, nursing his drink. “Yes, I agree. Best to curtail those bad habits such as biting his lip as soon as possible. Of course, we cannot blame him; only the moronic Muggles in that dire place. I am pleased we found him when we did, ‘Cissy. Imagine if we hadn’t before he received his letter from Hogwarts! What a disaster that could have been. The boy certainly needs training to make him into the proud Black scion he should be.”

Lucius was pleased with the boy so far, he only wondered how to reduce the damage the Muggles had done to the boy’s self-esteem in a soft way. He reckoned that Altair would not respond well to strict warnings or outright slander, and knew he must not be too harsh on the boy. He was worried in a way, however, that if the boy was not adequately coached on Pureblood society and magic, he may end up inadvertently reflecting the Sirius that Lucius remembered. Full of mischief and rebelling against the Pureblood way of life. Of course, the Black matriarch, Walburga, who raised Sirius was a bitter, repressive old hag, from what he remembers of their brief interactions before she died in 1985. Somehow Lucius knew he would have to find a middle ground in how to raise the child.

“I must make a visit to the Ministry. I need to find out why on earth Altair was covertly placed in that dreadful place, amongst Muggles. Surely Sirius or his wife had named someone suitable before their demise, if only we’d have known. . . Sometimes, I swear that Minister Bagnold has no hold over her staff, for all her supposed 'success' with the Dark Lord’s followers,” Lucius seethed, frowning into his drink.

Narcissa’s lips quirked into a playful smile. “Well, dear, she still missed out on you.”

Lucius smirked at his wife. “That she did, my treasure. Perhaps once I get to the bottom of their incompetence in correct placement of children, it will be enough to overthrow Bagnold and bring in a more pliable figure.”

Finishing their night caps and sharing a brief intimate kiss, the Malfoy couple settled into bed, each with thoughts of the future floating around in their dreams.


	3. Toys, Teaching & Ministry Transgressions

**Chapter 3 - Toys, Teaching & Ministry Transgressions**

Draco’s eyes snapped open in time to the beginning of the dawn chorus outside. He had slept rather well, but honestly it was like he had an internal alarm clock when he was really looking forward to something. Birthdays, Yule, and from yesterday, having his cousin living here. Although Draco would never admit outright that he gets lonely being an only child, he certainly complains at length of his ghastly boredom when Lucius and Narcissa are busy. The house elves play with him sometimes, or more, he winds them up so much for his own entertainment, exhibiting the usual disrespect for the little creatures that pervaded the magical upper classes. Still, they were too polite, too scared to break the rules, bound by inherent obeyance towards wizards, when Draco was running rampage through the expansive Malfoy estate.

Now though, Draco had Altair. It would be like having a sleepover with a friend, _all the time_. He barely checked if the sun had risen high enough for it to be considered morning before he was jumping out of his bed. In a flurry of motion, he was dressed, hair slicked back, teeth brushed and leaving his room. Once he was in the hallway, he hesitated for a whole five seconds before knocking eagerly on Altair’s bedroom door. He tapped his foot impatiently when he did not answer the first time, and took to continuously knocking on the door - now even more vigorously - until a dozy-eyed, messy-haired Altair opened the door, staring at Draco in a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

“Draaaco?" Altair asked, stretching his vowels with a wide, melodic yawn. “What time is it?” he asked, wiping his face with the palm of his hands and blinking sleep from his eyes.

Draco huffed and pushed past Altair into the room, snapping his fingers to turn on the lights. “It’s play time, silly,” he giggled. “Come on now, get dressed and ready so I can show you everything!”

Altair, who had turned in the doorway, gaped at Draco like he was insane. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like he was struggling to formulate a coherent response.

Draco pouted at Altair's lack of response. “What? It’s morning. I don’t know what time it is, but don’t you want to see all my toys? I wanted to play with you and talk to you yesterday, but father wouldn’t let us. So, come on!” Draco prodded Altair, looking at him expectantly, confused at his new friend's lack of enthusiasm.

Altair appeared as if he was about to argue, before biting his lip in his usual manner and sighed. “Okay, Draco. Give me a few minutes to get ready?” he asked, displaying as much interest as he could muster. He really did want to play with Draco and explore, but was not used to getting up this early to play around and have fun.

Draco smirked triumphantly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait right here though, ‘cause I bet you’ll fall asleep again if I leave!”

With that, he belly-flopped onto Altair’s bed and lay there like a starfish.

Altair tilted his head and stared at the ceiling for a second before looking for something to wear. He struggled into a robe, which Draco giggled at before helping him, when Altair threatened to get back into his sleepwear. Having chosen an emerald green robe with a faintly swirling silver pattern on it, he was still finding the sensation of wearing something so long odd, but it was not exactly uncomfortable. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, observing how tired he looked in the mirror. Although the bed had been more comfortable than anything he could have ever imagined, he had not slept especially well.

It was peculiar sleeping in such a large bed, in a massive room, in a ginormous house, in a gigantic estate. Ironically, it made him feel somehow claustrophobic. Everything was too quiet, too perfect, too vast, too empty. Altair was used to hearing the creaking floorboards and beds and sleeping noises of the other children in the home. It was a nice change in a way to finally experience peace, but the silence gave his mind too much time to overanalyse everything. He could not quite break free of the thought that this was all some crazy dream, or an elaborate hoax. He was kept awake with worry about potentially messing up, and the Malfoys deciding he was in fact unworthy of their luxurious lifestyle. Altair decided it was probably best to try and please them as much as he could, pretend he was a perfect, golden child. This was why he relented in going along with Draco’s whims so easily, against his better judgment.

Draco grabbed Altair by the wrist and dragged him from his bedroom, along the corridor to the playroom. He turned and grinned at Altair, mischief dancing in his icy grey eyes. “Want to see all my magic figurines? Look at the castle! I bet you haven’t seen anything like _this_ before,” he said, with smug pride at his enviable collection of toys.

“I saw some yesterday. . . I only looked at Merlin, though. I heard of him already; Muggles know him, too. I never believed he was actually real. . .” Altair said, squinting at the table. He was still slightly woozy from his recent departure from sleep, and was struggling to keep up with Draco’s speech.

“ _Obviously_ he was real! I bet the Muggles got it all wrong though, how could they know anything?” he giggled in disdain. “Look, I’ve even got Morgan Le Fay!” He picked up the figurine of a beautiful miniature witch with long flowing hair, dressed in an array of vibrant colours. She waved at him flirtatiously, her wand sending off sparks in the shape of a tiny heart. Draco scowled at her and plonked her back in the woodland scene outside the castle walls. “Don’t try me, woman, I know your ploy!” he smirked wickedly at her.

Altair laughed softly. “I can’t believe they move on their own, do you think they move when you’re not looking?” he asked, grimacing as he realised how creepy that would be. _Toys moving on their own. What if they got out of the confines of the miniature castle and started roaming the house?_ He shuddered, thinking of a story one of the girls at the home told him; an abandoned doll breaking its way back into the house to kill the cruel owner who left it on the roadside. He would treat these living toys very cautiously from now on.

Draco seemed to have a similar thought, frowning slightly, before shrugging it off. “No, I think they’re charmed to only move when touched or spoken to. They react to orders, a bit like my chess set. I’ll have to show you that at some point! Have you played Wizard's Chess before? Oh, of course not, why would you have? I’m pretty good, you know,” he boasted, stepping around the castle to the figurines on Merlin’s side.

Draco did not really give Altair time to respond before he was picking up another figurine. “Come on, let’s play this for a while! I’ll be Merlin and Arthur, you can be Morgan and Mordred.” He instructed Altair, gesturing for Altair to pick up Morgan. “Let’s do their final battle!”

He moved Merlin into a clearing near the gates, putting Arthur slightly in front of him.

“Wait which one’s Mordred?” Altair asked, surveying the figurines lined up around the grounds.

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently, and pulled up a gloomy looking figure dressed in black armour, placing it next to Morgan.

“Do you actually know what happened in this battle or did the Muggles mess that up as well? There was so much magic used that I bet they had their memories of what really happened completely wiped!” he laughed.

“I don’t know much,” Altair admitted, keen to learn the real truth. “There was some stuff about it in that book on Merlin I read in here yesterday,” he said, pointing. “It is different to what I read in the Muggle world, I guess. I didn’t really know that Merlin or Morgan were involved, I guess they kinda focus on Arthur and barely even say anything about Mordred, except that he was killed around the same time as Arthur.”

Draco tutted in disgust. “Of _course_ they focus on the _Muggle_ , rather than the Greatest Wizard of All Time. Merlin and Morgan were there, having a battle of their own. People blamed Morgan for Arthur’s death because she went along with Mordred’s attempt to take over the world,” he said eyeing Mordred shrewdly, holding his fingers in front of the character as if he was about to flick him. “Did the Muggles fail to mention that in their books?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“W-well, the thing is, they treat it as fiction, like I did until coming here. So, there’s a lot of differences between what each author said happened. They focus mostly on the strength of King Arthur and that, even though he died, he still forced evil from the world,” Altair explained, feeling kind of sour about Draco’s constant digs at Muggles. He doubted that Draco had even ever been in the Muggle world, so what did he know?! He was starting to pick up a recurring theme, that the Malfoys and perhaps the wizarding world in general, saw themselves as being better than Muggles. Although Muggles must be far more populous than wizards, otherwise would wizards not rule over them, rather than staying secret?

“Well, Arthur was pretty decent for a Muggle, I guess. But, Merlin was the real legend, he completely changed the way we wizards look at magic, what was good, and what was bad. Father says this battle was one of the turning points for Merlin, in how he viewed the world and our security. Of course, Morgan Le Fey was cool too, even if she was a bit evil,” Draco said, tilting his head to look at Morgan as if she had taken offence to barely being mentioned.

After all this historical information was debated, they finally began acting out the scenes of the battle. Altair found it fascinating how the figurines reacted to instructions that he and Draco gave them. It was a glorious battle; Arthur and Mordred duelled, until Mordred died leaving a tiny pool of blood. Arthur was injured fatally by Mordred’s last stand, and Merlin wrapped him in a magical protective bubble, which he floated away in to find a cure, but to no avail. In his sorrow, Merlin unleashed the true power of his magic, which resulted in a haywire spell transforming Morgan into a fairy, chained and captive in a unbreakable, impenetrable glass jar. Altair was amazed by how lifelike the figurines acted; he really felt like he was in the midst of the battle when they were playing it out. Draco looked ecstatic, grinning in triumph.

Once they finished the epic scene, Draco showed Altair some other toys. In the chest by the window was an assortment of things: plushies that moved or even flied, and a small wizarding musical instrument lay at the bottom, missing some of its keys. It looked curiously like a trumpet, but with an ornate dragon head instead of a flared bell.

"The dragon used to breath fire, but not anymore," he said, sadly, covering it back up with more toys.

They messed around with those for a while, various toy creatures flying around their heads as they raced around, trying to pluck them out of the air.

The boys were in the middle of an intensely close game of Exploding Snap when the door to the playroom opened, revealing Narcissa dressed regally in an elegant royal blue gown. She smiled down at them beatifically.

“Ah, there you are. Did you not hear the chime for breakfast, Dragon?” she stepped towards them, her hair shining in the sunlight.

Draco blinked innocently. “No, sorry mother. We were just having so much fun! I showed Altair some of my toys and we played out the tale of Merlin with my figurines! And then I showed him more things, and Exploding Snap, then I was going to show him Wizard's Chess, and then I thought maybe later we could show him Gobstones! There’s just so much to see,” he blabbered on, energetically.

Narcissa raised her eyes to the ceiling during his tirade. She finally spoke once he had finished. 

“I know there is a lot to show him, Draco, but you mustn’t do too much at once, dear. What time did you get up this morning?” She could not help but sigh at Draco’s sheepish smile. “Come along now, I expect you’re both rather peckish.”

At their nods, she led them swiftly through the halls of the manor to the tea room.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucius awaited them, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet was laid open in front of him, moving images on the pages catching Altair's eyes. However, Lucius was currently sorting through a mass of mail that had just arrived by owl. He looked up at them and greeted them as they entered.

“Good morning, Draco. . . Altair. Did you both sleep well?” he said, glancing at Narcissa who was shepherding them to their seats. “I hope you haven’t been up to mischief.”

Draco looked chagrined. “It wasn’t mischief!” he snapped, before shaking his head contritely at Lucius’ sharp gaze. “Sorry, father. I guess I got a bit carried away. . . you had fun though, right, Altair?” he asked the other boy as they sat down.

Altair nodded. “Yes, it was lots of fun. Thank you for showing me your toys, Draco.” he said, obediently.

He looked around at the platter of breakfast items: croissants, pain au chocolat, a rack of toast which was cooked perfectly, butter, marmalade, jam, scrambled egg, smoked salmon, and a variety of fruits. His mouth started watering at the sight, having never seen such a large assortment of food before. Obviously, the Malfoys breakfast was different to the way they ate dinner, it was more of a continental buffet than anything else, and finer than anything Altair had seen before.

He waited until Lucius had put aside his papers and set out his chosen meal, before he hesitantly reached for some toast, butter and some strawberry jam. Draco had piled a handful of pain au chocolat on his plate, Narcissa looking at his disapprovingly, passing him an apple.

Once they had all tucked into their meals, discussion began about the upcoming day.

“I have some business to attend to at the Ministry,” Lucius stated, waving absently at the stack of letters that remained unopened beside him. “The Ministry of Magic, Altair, is our government. I’m certain it’s run very differently to the Muggle one.” _Most likely far better, too,_  Lucius thought to himself.

Narcissa nodded. “I have some activities set out for you today, Altair. After breakfast, we will go to the library so I can begin teaching you more about wizarding customs. You’ll have time to play with Draco in the afternoon, of course,” she added, after Draco started pouting. “However, at 3 pm, I have our tailor, Mr Eleganza, visiting. He’s from _Eleganza Extravaganza_ , one of the finest clothiers in the world. The fitting will take around an hour and we will have a full wardrobe for you by next week.”

Altair’s lips twitched downwards for a millisecond before he bit his lip. “You didn’t have to do that, the clothes that are in my wardrobe are more than enough. . .” he said, silently dreading the fitting.

Narcissa clicked her tongue. “Nonsense, Altair. Those clothes, although they may fit, were suited more for Draco a year ago, so they’re rather out of style now. Without adjustments, they are not adequate for your size. You deserve to have your own wardrobe full of clothes appropriate for yourself, I won’t hear of anything else,” she said, firmly.

Altair ducked his head shyly. “Th-Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. . . Aunt Narcissa,” he corrected himself.

Narcissa smiled fondly at him and looked to Draco. “Now, Dragon, I know you have some homework from your tutor to do for your lesson on Monday. Just because it’s been postponed does not mean you can put it off any longer. You may come with us to work on it in the library, as long as you promise not to interrupt my lesson with Altair.”

After breakfast, Lucius kissed his wife and son on the cheek, and patted Altair on his shoulder before setting off through the Floo to the Ministry.

 

* * *

 

 

Narcissa led the children to the library, settling Draco on a table in the corner with his homework, before leading Altair to one of the bookcases further in.

Altair was brimming with excitement to be learning something, especially about the magical world. He still could not comprehend quite how many books the Malfoys seemed to possess, as he glanced around the Library with all its towering shelves and orderly tomes. These were nothing like the limited selection of tatty, clumsily-thumbed books he had been used to at the orphanage; there were so few to choose from, he had probably read them all ten times apiece.

Once Altair was sat down at a nearby table, Narcissa straightened out her robes and stood in front of the mahogany bookcase behind her. “This is the section on wizarding customs, etiquette, and social history. I think we’ll begin with customs, as they may be the hardest to adapt to. This should then tie in nicely with the etiquette I’d like you to learn.”

She pulled out a relatively thin book, deep red in colour, entitled  _Magic, Muggles, and the Miscellaneous_ , by Mercilla Cramph. She flicked hastily through the pages until finding the chapter she wanted. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the wizarding world is kept almost completely separate from the Muggle world. I don’t mean physically, of course. One of our main shopping districts is hidden within central London. I mean, we have to keep our society secret for our own protection and safety. Witches and wizards were hunted down and killed several hundred years ago, for the Muggles grew jealous of our ability to do things that they couldn’t conceive as being possible.”

Altair nodded. “Yeah, I guess I saw that when the people at my home feared what I did, even though I didn’t know that magic was real. I've also read about things like the Salem witch trials in books, and a bit of poetry about the way they were treated,” he explained, hoping to impress his aunt.

“Indeed. The trials in Salem were rather devastating to the community in America, however we had our own trials here. That is for another lesson, however. We now have the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which means we cannot reveal our magic in the presence of a Muggle. Doing so, results in a rather severe punishment, and may sometimes lead to a witch or wizard having their wand snapped. Some of us are against this treaty, as it seems to place us below Muggles in the world, when we have more power than them.”

She did not specify that Lucius was one of those that rather opposed this treaty. Narcissa hovered on the edge of being in favour of it for her family’s safety, and against it for her personal views. She waited silently to gauge his response.

“I mean, I don’t know how many wizards and witches there are in the world, but there must be a lot more Muggles, right? From what I know, I think it’s a good thing, I guess. How exactly do wizards stay hidden, though? Muggles have cameras and satellites everywhere now. Doesn’t that make a problem?” Altair mused, picturing the streets he knew, security cameras on every corner.

Narcissa hesitated briefly. “I don’t know about these ‘satellite’ things, I’m afraid. As you can probably tell, our understanding of the Muggle world is rather limited, due to the separation, but also just plain disinterest in their affairs. However, cameras are not so much of an issue; Muggles will usually just overlook any odd occurrences. The ones that raise awareness to it are either denounced as being insane, or the Ministry get involved and destroy any supposed ‘evidence’.”

She continued after he looked at her, a keen look in his eye. Such a curious child. “Now, as for how we stay hidden, there are a variety of very complex wards surrounding any area that is a much frequented wizard hotspot. Diagon Alley, for example, is hidden through layers of enchantment that make the Muggles completely disinterested in the place. Hogwarts is similar, in that Muggles who approach the area see a very dangerous ruin and are guided away but what they think is instinct. There are some exceptions, such as Stonehenge, which is a significant cultural site for Muggles and wizards alike. The lines get blurred here, as quite often the Muggles who visit are slightly attuned to what they see as a ‘spiritual realm’, so we do not need to hide it as well.” Narcissa explained, hoping she was not making things too confusing for Altair. He seemed to be keeping up so far, especially for a boy of only eight years, turning nine next month, if she remembered correctly.

Altair looked surprised to learn about Stonehenge. “They say the people who visit there are ‘droods’. . .  'droids'? Is that actually a wizarding thing?” he fumbled to find the correct word.

Narcissa sniffed. “No, not particularly. _Druids_ are more like pagans, or Muggle witches. While they do have some affinity for magic, it is nothing like our natural ability to control it. The pagans rely more on simplistic runes, and the elements, than channelling spells as we do.”

“Anyway, we’re getting off track. One of the reasons we must hide from Muggles is because our society is so different to theirs, and we’re rather bad at trying to blend in. We have some very old customs and traditions; we even celebrate different seasonal holidays to them. As you know, most Muggles celebrate Christian festivities. Some wizards are trying to convert our society to the Muggle ones, and many of our historic rituals are basically outlawed,” Narcissa explained with a sneer, not hiding her distaste over essential magical practices being condemned.

She continued at length, describing wizard traditions such as Yule, Imbolc, Beltane, Midsommer, and Samhain. There were more traditions, but she decided to leave those out until Altair had a deeper understanding of magic. She was worried she might already be over-saturating his brain.

She waved her hand, magically flipping through the pages of the book until it snapped open on chapter she wanted. “Now, I think I’ve done enough speaking today, it’s nearly lunch time and I have no doubt that Draco is getting restless,” she said, smiling. “I want you to take this book and either read this chapter, which is about our currency, clothing, and greetings. I want you to write a page of notes on how they differ to what you know from the Muggle world.”

With that, Narcissa ended her first lesson with Altair. He had seemed pretty interested in what he had learned, as dry as it had been. He was so eager to learn everything he could about their world, which greatly pleased Narcissa after seeing countless Mudbloods entering their world and disregarding everything integral to their society. The small assignment that she had given him to complete would allow him to practice using a quill, also, which was fundamental.

They gathered Draco, and set off to a dining hall for a spot of light lunch.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile at the Ministry, Lucius was in the Wizarding Archives, trying to worm his way into the section on magical children. That department documented each individual child’s residence, blood status, and detailed all reports of accidental and intentional outbursts of magic. Lucius had been here once before, to gather any data he could on the whereabouts of Altair, however had found himself at an impasse. Neither he nor his wife were listed as family members outside of the family tree, and he was only allowed a limited piece of parchment essentially just indicating that, yes, Sirius Black had sired a Pureblood child. The Malfoys had not known Altair’s name at the time, and it was not even on the useless document they had been given.

It had been infuriating to say the least, and, had he not just overcome the recent allegations of his involvement with the Dark Lord, he would have resorted to less moral methods. However, where they had now legally adopted Altair – in the Muggle world, at least – he was of the belief that he would get what he wanted, as was customary.

He was itching to know which _idiot_ at the Ministry had decided to put a Pureblood child in a Muggle orphanage. He knew it could not have been Sirius’ dead wife, nor Sirius himself. To have a magical child was a blessing and they were revered and protected. To see one abandoned or abused was an absolute outrage and ended in lengthy sentences. This was especially true for Pureblood children as they were becoming such a rarity, to Malfoy's dismay.

He approached the counter outside of the section he needed, striding up to the bored looking clerk who was chewing her hair and doing a crossword in the Daily Prophet. He hid a sneer as she looked up, eyes disinterested, and asked what she could help with.

“My wife, Narcissa, and I have recently adopted a wizarding child who had been sent to the Muggle world. I would like to retrieve his file to find out just why he was placed there, and who deemed it necessary.”

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes indifferently. “Do you have the papers of your adoption? You know Muggle adoption is different from magical adoption, right? I can’t just hand over files, you’re gonna have to give me some information first.” She began tapping her nails against the counter, making Lucius’ eye twitch out of barely constrained irritation.

“Of course, I know that magical adoption is different. . .”

 _Foolish_ _girl._  “. . . and I have endorsement from the Advisor to Minister Bagnold, along with our Muggle certificates. Mr Fudge assured me that this would be sufficient.”  He gracefully withdrew the relevant documents from inside his robe and handed them to the girl.

The girl looked slightly shocked at the dates on the adoption and letter of authorisation, as it all seemed to have happened within two days. Nobody got an audience with the Minister’s aide that easily, he was clearly a man in high demand.

After she had not responded for a while, Lucius grew impatient. “ _Well?_ ” he demanded of the useless girl.

“Sorry – I just need to check with my superior.” She disappeared to a room behind the desk.

Lucius growled in irritation, sometimes he despised the ridiculous formalities the Ministry put them under. Of course, when it regarded child safety, he understood their wariness. Still though, to hesitate about letting Lucius through, who was rather upstanding in the Ministry, was rather insulting. _Perhaps the girl is a Mudblood, that would explain her ignorance._

When the girl reappeared, she was clutching a thin binder in her hand and wearing a sheepish expression on her face. She blinked up at him, a new apologetic tone to her voice. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy. My superior said that of course it’s okay for you to have these files, so I went and grabbed them for you. Please just stamp or sign here to say you got them. You’re allowed them for thirty days maximum, unless they are needed in a trial. If that's the case you can take copies of them with permission.”

Relieved but not all forgiving, Lucius near enough snatched the files away from the girl, before stamping the parchment she held towards him with his Lord ring, bearing his coat of arms. The mark was an equivalent of a signature, and in Lucius' opinion, preferable to signing with a quill. With one last half-nod at the girl, he spun and skulked away.

Unfortunately, getting to the archive and the time spent waiting to receive the information meant he had to now hurry to his next meeting. He would have to wait to examine Altair's file when he had returned home.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco and Altair had a wild afternoon of fun after they finished their lunch. Draco dragged Altair from room to room, giving him a grand tour, showing him every interesting, and not so interesting, knick-knack he could find. Finally, he finished by showing Altair their gardens outside, including the half-sized Quidditch pitch, beautifully maintained. They did not fly, because Narcissa forbade it, so Draco merely explained about Quidditch in detail, stressing the importance of each role. He told Altair all about the famous teams, ranting that the Tutshill Tornadoes were the absolute best.

Narcissa had called the children inside to freshen up before the tailor came to visit. Altair had nearly forgotten about that dreaded occasion until then, having had such an interesting day. He had to keep pinching himself every time he was alone, making sure it was not all a dream.

Mr Eleganza from _Eleganza Extravaganza_ was a flamboyant man, rather tall and lean, his hairless, coffee-coloured scalp gleaming in the dazzling sun. He wore silken robes made with varying patterns in a gradient of purples. He had bright green cropped trousers on underneath. Altair was horrified at the thought that this might be what he was expected to wear. Thankfully, that treacherous thought was put to rest once they had chosen a modest variety of robes for him, in colours that he suited well, and only a few that were a mixture of more than two colours. They discovered that a deep blue, especially when in velvet, brought out his features. His eyes stood out even more brightly against the darker sheen of the materials, and his sable hair and pale skin contrasted wonderfully.

“You look like a proper Pureblood heir now, Altair,” Narcissa beamed at him, eyeing him proudly.

The boys were now sat in one of the lower ground floor sitting rooms, with the fireplace roaring, and their legs tucked up on the sofa. They were both reading quietly, tired from their day, whilst Narcissa was upstairs refreshing her makeup for Lucius’ arrival home.

Lucius stepped elegantly out of the Floo in the main foyer and made his way to where the wards told him his family were sitting. After greeting them and inquiring about their day he sat with them for a while, before they had dinner.

It was later, once the boys were safely tucked into bed, that Lucius finally had the chance to inspect the folder he received from the Ministry. Settling into his office with a glass of brandy, he read the information with quiet intrigue.

The data was sparse, it seemed scattered and haphazardly put together. For example, it stated Altair’s birthplace, mentioned where his mother had fled to after Sirius was incarcerated, and briefly touched on his return to England. After that, it said “A. A. Black, two years old, has been immediately rehomed to an undisclosed location due to an order from the Ministry, April 1983. This order is decreed by Minister Millicent Bagnold, in agreement with Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore.”

It did not state which specific order this entailed, however Lucius felt his hackles rise at the mention of the insufferable current headmaster of Hogwarts. _What business was it of his where the boy was placed?_ He felt anger at the fact that this would have occurred during the fallout of the Dark Lord’s demise, when the Ministry was locking up wizards left, right, and centre. It reeked of a cover up of some kind, only Lucius could not fathom exactly _what_ they were hiding. _Why was the specific order not listed?_

Lucius lamented the fact that he and Narcissa had no way of being involved at that time, perhaps they could have learned about the boy sooner, and done something to prevent him being placed with the vile Muggles. He wondered if perhaps it was something to do with Sirius Black himself, having been one of the instruments in the death of the Potters. Perhaps the Ministry wanted to smother anything involving the Dark Arts?

His lip curled as he took a swig from his drink, and began formulating a plan. It was of utmost importance now that he proved the Minister’s incompetency. Her advisor and second in command, Fudge, was far more malleable. He adored Lucius, who felt certain that he could gain more knowledge from the man. All he needed now was some proof of the woman’s ineptitude, and possible foul play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a couple of days before chapter 4 is published, as I'm still writing/editing it.  
> Thanks for reading!   
> -Taisho :)


	4. Fights, Frogs & Festivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was meant to time-skip quite a lot, but as always I got a bit carried away, and it got too long.  
> It did originally include another trip of Lucius' to the Ministry, and a meeting with Severus, but well...  
> That'll be in next chapter, where the time-skips will be further apart, probably bringing us up to 1990 at least.  
> Sorry if the pace is still too slow! I just can't help myself sometimes, I guess I just wanted to get as much of Altair's first month of experience in the magical world down before I progressed onto other things.  
> (also sorry if it appeared like I posted this chapter twice)

**Chapter 4 - Fights, Frogs & Festivities**

  
June the 10th, 1989.

Altair found that adjusting to the Malfoys' lavish lifestyle was not as hard as he had anticipated, and he was finding that the knowledge he gleaned from the array of tomes was easily absorbed. When he was not being dragged around the manor in various pursuits of entertainment by Draco, he could be found sitting in an alcove of the library. Either reading various books by his own volition, or following guidance from Narcissa and Lucius; from both pursuits he had learned the basics of wizarding society and knew how to comport himself according to their wishes.

Having been at the manor for just under two weeks, his relationship with the Malfoy family was progressing nicely, and Altair now felt moderately comfortable around them. He had been coming out of his shell a little more around Draco, however he found himself rather jealous over the fact that the Malfoy heir was entitled to receive tutoring. Altair was trying to build the confidence to ask Narcissa or Lucius if he was allowed to participate in the sessions, but he was worried that Draco may be unwilling to share the classes, as the boy liked being able to tell Altair that he knew more.

Draco would often interrupt Altair’s solo study time, picking up whatever book the boy was currently reading, to point out that he, Draco, had learnt superior knowledge from his tutor or father. Draco had consistently been demanding that Altair spend time with him, and grew frustrated over the time that Altair spent studying, pushing the boy to put down his literature and follow Draco around.

Draco had insisted Altair follow him around for the first week or two, outside of Altair’s lessons with Narcissa and Draco’s various meetings with his friends. Altair, still being fairly shy, had a disinclination to decline spending time with the boy, worried that Draco might get upset and complain that Altair was being unfriendly. Altair still had the overwhelming fear of being sent back to his old home, which he knew he would not readjust to after experiencing everything he had been missing for all his years. Certain luxiries he did not even know he had missed until he had them.

It was not that he was not enjoying the time spent with Draco, but his overactive energy would often wear Altair out. He would often end up struggling to keep up with whatever topic Draco was rambling about, or whichever game the boy wanted to play. Altair’s patience was beginning to wain under the constant pressure to try and please Draco. After nearly a week of being woken up at the crack of dawn, and being bossed into playing something tiresome, the constant dependence from Draco became grating. He was struggling enough as it was, to maintain the behaviour he believed the elder Malfoys wished to see, without Draco aggravating his already perturbed self-control. Altair would spend the days with Draco, giving in to his every impulse, gradually getting more exhausted. His attention would grow thin, thus his replies grew snappier if he did not have adequate time to formulate a polite response. Draco just would not  _shut up_  sometimes!

After one particularly gruelling night where Altair had not managed to fall asleep until the antisocial hour of two o’clock in the morning, due to the ruminations of his mind, Draco awoke him just after dawn. Draco was desperate to act out another figurine tale, this time with his famous Quidditch players set. He was eager to show Altair how they flew around on command, knowing it would amaze the boy. He would not take no for an answer, no matter how firmly Altair tried to make his reluctance to get out of bed clear. Draco grew impatient and dragged a half-dressed Altair out of his room down the corridor to the playroom.

Altair was too tired to focus on the game properly, ordering the figurines on his team around half-heartedly, much to the frustration of Draco. Draco growled and seethed that Altair was not acting his character out correctly, and began rambling about how Altair ‘knew nothing about the sport’, and how he was ‘no fun’, and how ‘Blaise was so much better’. When Altair acquiesced to playing how Draco insisted, and started putting more effort into the game, his Quidditch team figurines began winning. Draco got immensely upset, saying that Altair was not playing fairly and that he must be cheating. He ranted and ranted, becoming quite distraught, and ended up throwing one of his figurines at Altair in a burst of anger.

Altair lost the last remnant of control over his emotions. He snapped completely, his magic lashing out around him, flipping the magic table up and over, sending the figurines and miniature Quidditch hoops flying. 

"You are a selfish, spoiled little bully, Draco Malfoy!" he yelled, his voice cracking out of rage so foreign to his usual way of speaking. "I wish you would just SHUT UP," he added, after which both boys froze in shock, neither quite believing the words that had just erupted from Altair’s mouth.

Draco’s face flushed red. “I wish we never adopted you!” he shouted, before storming from the room in tears. Altair could hear Draco howling as he ran off in the direction of Lucius and Narcissa’s wing.

After he had left the room, Altair sank down to his knees, surrounded by the broken figurines and sobbed, crushed by these words. He was just so  _tired,_ and all Draco had done was wind him up and pushed him until Altair could not function anymore. He knew now that the Malfoys would send him back to the home, forcing him to return to the mundanity of the Muggle way of life. He hyperventilated, anxious thoughts flooding his mind. He could not return to that world, not now. He did not want to lose everything he had learnt, the bond he had begun forming with the family he once had no clue existed. To go back to that place now would be to lose himself.

How could he have messed everything up this quickly, and so spectacularly? He had been coping relatively well so far. Admittedly, he had sometimes resorted to screaming into a pillow after some trying days with Draco, or the Malfoys' attitude to things non-magical. Draco just made it so hard, being so exhausting to keep up with; constantly one-upping Altair on topics. He would never be able to compete with Draco in his knowledge, if not for Draco’s boasting, for his own inability to ask for further lessons. Why would the Malfoys reduce themselves to care for someone who was horrible to their favoured son, someone who damaged their property? Altair felt doomed.

Lucius and Narcissa entered the room to find Altair curled up in a ball, crying uncontrollably, encircled by the wrecked remains of Draco’s table. Draco had been in a similar state of hysterics; large tears pouring from his eyes as he frantically shook them awake, rambling incoherently. Lucius, not one for overly-emotional displays, waited until Narcissa had calmed their son down suitably enough to begin questioning. Through Draco’s hiccupping speech, the adults were able to learn what had transpired. The adults decided that Draco would benefit from some time spent alone in his room, whilst they attempted to talk to Altair. They had more experience with Draco’s meltdowns, whereas Altair had so far remained a calm, peaceful boy.

Lucius called for an elf to bring him a calming draught, just in case it became neccessary. Narcissa stepped towards Altair and tentatively put her arm around his shoulder. Altair looked up, face red, eyes wild and weeping. “P-please, I’m sorry. Don’t send me back. I’m s-sorry. Please.” He begged, sniffling.

“Altair, listen to me. We will not send you back. We will never send you back. You are our  _family_.” Narcissa comforted the crying child, rubbing circles into his back.

“Draco admitted that he just wanted to play with you, and became frustrated. Why he decided this hour would be acceptable for play is beyond me, and I will question him on it later,” Lucius stated, not approaching Altair directly for fear of startling the boy.

Narcissa sighed and exchanged a concerned glance with Lucius as Altair refused to respond.

“Altair, dear,” Narcissa said, lifting his chin gently with her fingers. “You’re okay. You are not in trouble. It is too early in the morning for fun and games, as we said to Draco. Both of you must be over-tired, so it is no surprise that this happened. You will make up, I’m sure of it.”

As Narcissa continued consoling the boy, Altair’s crying was reduced to the occasional sniff and gasp.

“But I b-broke his toy. He hates me,” he hiccupped, twisting his hands anxiously.

“He most certainly does not hate you, Altair. Draco is just eager to finally have somebody to play with at home, outside of his limited group of friends. He had already been warned about being forceful with you, and chose to ignore the warning,” Lucius stated firmly, growing weary of Altair’s insecurity.

“As for the broken table. . .  do you know the wonderful thing about magic, Altair? Broken things can mostly be fixed with just a wave of a wand.” Narcissa smiled gently at the boy, trying to assure him that he was not in trouble.

Narcissa flourished her wand, enunciating, “ _Reparo._ ” At her utterance, the fractured pieces of the miniature Quidditch field, figurines and all, reacted and began to reassemble. Finally, the table was reverted to the pristine quality it was in when Draco had pulled Altair into the room that morning, the figurines seemed undisturbed.

The awe at seeing the mended table seemed to shake the remnants of his upset from his system. The light in his grey eyes dimmed as Narcissa put her wand away, making the colour appear stormier, revealing how exhausted and upset he truly was.

“Come on now, child. Why don’t we return you back to your bed? It’s still early, and I’m sure you could do with a good lie down after that ordeal,” Narcissa voiced, steering Altair from the room.

After an hour of settling down, they had spoken to each boy individually to calm them down and learn their side of the story. Lucius concluded that Draco had been jealous of the fact he was not allowed to spend all his time with Altair. He had tried to remedy that by taking his own initiative and making the most of the morning hours. Altair, however, had been struggling with his sleeping for some time, and being woken up so early was distressing to the boy, making his emotions go haywire. No matter how much each boy tried to keep their feelings controlled, it was something that had been building up for a while, coming to a head earlier that morning. The couple had explained to Draco that Altair was still adjusting to his new life, and that Draco should treat him kindlier. Draco had begun crying again at that, confessing to the cruel words he had said, the lie that it was.

Altair expressed his regret for reacting so explosively, and for telling Draco to shut up, along with the other hurtful phrases he had shouted. He felt especially guilty over those words, and the destruction of Draco’s prized possessions. Even after seeing the table repaired, he still felt ashamed over his outburst, and was extremely remorseful towards Draco. After a lip-biting, sniffling round of apologies, the boys made up, hugging as they did so.

Draco vowed that he would try to refrain from pressuring the boy to wake up so early, and would aim to be less urgent in regard to playing games. Altair promised to be more forthcoming when he did not want to play, but would make sure he would spend time with Draco more frequently if the other boy allowed him to study. During this conversation, Altair managed to bravely express his wishes to join Draco in his tutoring sessions, which, to his surprise, Draco was eager about. Lucius and Narcissa consented, both believing him to be at an adequate level in his understanding of magical knowledge. By lunch time, their friendship was almost at the same level as it was before, without any hidden resentment in the boys. The emotional outburst brought the boys closer, as they now knew what each other’s limits were.

Lucius and Narcissa were relieved and proud over the way the boys had handled the event, pleased with the mature way they handled themselves once they had recovered from their upset.

 

* * *

  

June the 14th 1989

A few days after the fight, the atmosphere was calm once again, and Altair was pleased to be able to read in relative peace. Now, when Draco wandered into the library in his boredom, he would sit quietly at Altair’s table and focus on his own reading, until Altair marked his page or finished his notes. There was a sense of contentment around them when they did this, as each boy knew the boundaries between them and were pleased just to be in the presence of the other. Of course, Draco occasionally could not contain his enthusiasm with certain things, but to Altair’s relief he had yet to be woken at the crack of dawn.

Draco had taken to briefing Altair in what delights he was to learn in their tutoring sessions. Their tutor, Orval Barbour, covered elementary level versions of the topics that they would learn at Hogwarts. Draco explained that Mr Barbour especially focused on History of Magic, due to his opinion of the uselessness of the professor at Hogwarts, Professor Binns, a ghost. Altair was interested to know what ghosts looked like, and could not wait to attend Hogwarts, even if the spectre was as dreary as their tutor had told Draco.

Draco informed Altair that they were not supposed to perform magic in their classes, but that next year they will be able to use practice wands before they were called to attend Hogwarts. The only non-theory-based subject they were allowed to actively do something in was potion-making, which Draco explained he had another tutor for. Namely, Severus Snape, who was the resident Potions Master and Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts. More importantly, however, he was Draco’s godfather. As he was a professor, lessons for potion-making coincided with summer break, when he had no lessons or students to attend to. Draco bounced with excitement as he explained how great at Potions his godfather was, younger than any other Potions Master in history, and how he would often give advice to Draco on topics other than Potions, much to his delight. Altair could not wait to meet the man, as he was keen to know everything he could about Hogwarts before they attended in two years.

Altair was trying to take Draco’s advice on topics with more enthusiasm than he had before, when he thought Draco was just trying to prove that Altair was inferior. Draco was now kind enough to share his notes from the classes with Mr Barbour. He was taking care to explain anything in a friendlier manner than before, if Altair asked for clarification. Altair consumed the knowledge like it was a depleting resource, however he did not copy from Draco’s notes, preferring to come to his own conclusions. Mostly, though, he just could not wait to experience an official tutoring session. As much as he appreciated Narcissa’s efforts, she was no scholar. Sometimes she would come across as vague in her explanations, or occasionally would water down the descriptions of things as if to suit a young child. He would not call her patronising, exactly, but sometimes she came across as deeming some topics too heavy for him.

 

* * *

  

June the 21st, 1989

Mr Barbour was an interesting man, he had a strict no-nonsense air around him, his face covered with faint lines from age or stress (or both). He dressed smartly, but it was clear to Altair that the material was not of the same high quality the Malfoys themselves preferred. Altair was surprised to see that wizards used blackboards, unlike the Muggle world, which was slowly converting to the use of whiteboards; they deemed blackboards to be unhealthy. He had to admit that seeing the chalk write words on the blackboard as Mr Barbour spoke to be far more inspiring than a marker pen would have seemed. It felt more authentic, giving Altair some odd sense of nostalgia into an ancient history he has not experienced.

The lessons entailed a lot of reading and answering questions. On one particular morning they had a fast-paced session consisting of quick-fire questions from Mr Barbour. "Which of you can tell me the charm for levitation?" he looked at them expectantly.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA, SIR!" Altair blurted out in a gasp of breath, before Draco even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Hmm, good. Maybe that was too easy, eh? Who can name all the founders of Hog-"

"Godric-Gryffindor-Rowena-Ravenclaw-Helga-Hufflepuff-Salazar-Slytherin. . ." Altair listed in one breath, cutting off his teacher before he could finish the question. "Sorry, Draco," he said, shocked at his growing confidence.

"Sir, can you teach me the Silencing Charm so I can silence him and have a chance of getting one right?" Draco quipped.

"Do not despair, Draco. By the way, the Silencing Charm is-"

" _Silencio!"_  Altair interrupted, again.

After a while, Draco finally had a few correct answers under his belt, but Altair was very much ahead. "Very good, both of you. Altair, you answered the most correct answers so take this for your victory," Mr Barbour said, sliding a Chocolate Frog towards him.

Over time, Altair racked up quite a collection of Chocolate Frog cards from so many victories, much to Draco’s infuriation. Draco was not too jealous, however, as he owned a large amount of the cards himself.

Altair was interested in charms, having seen the diversity of them throughout his time spent at the Malfoys. Glamour Charms, Mending Charms, Summoning Charms, Levitation Charms. They seemed highly beneficial to everyday life and he was determined that next year, when they received their practice wands, he would practise them as much as he could. Learning about Charms, and other topics both through Mr Barbour and the books he read when he could, was very intriguing to him.

Although Draco was accommodating to Altair beating him in the mini-quizzes, he struggled when Altair began to get higher scores on his assignments. After their fight before, however, he tried to keep his envy to himself at first. Though, he did finally ask Mr Barbour for advice on certain things, which he had never done before. Usually, he would defer to Lucius for advice on topics, however having Altair present in the tutoring sessions increased Draco’s urge to learn more by his own merit, and awakened a competitive streak within him. If he still could not grasp something, or see his error, he would consult his books further.

Lucius and Narcissa were both pleased and proud with how well both boys were coming along through their lessons. They were both highly intelligent boys, and Narcissa just knew they would flourish at Hogwarts.

Their time was not entirely consumed by learning, however much Draco teased Altair that he wished it was. Draco had been eager to show his rediscovered cousin off to his friends, and begged Narcissa to arrange a playdate for them all at the Manor. Narcissa agreed, as she felt it would be beneficial for Altair to meet some other peers, to give him a sense of camaraderie not just with with Draco alone. As Altair’s birthday was coming up in three weeks, she decided that sooner would be better than later, and hastened to arrange a get-together for the children.

Draco was ecstatic on the day his group of friends were coming over to meet Altair, in late June. The weather was sunny enough that they might have a chance to play a game of Quidditch on the practice brooms that they owned. He had not seen his friends for some time, being highly distracted by Altair settling in and learning to behave like a Pureblood. He was most excited to introduce Altair to his best friend, Blaise Zabini. They had known each other since childhood, and he knew that Blaise would be the best at talking to Altair about popular music, art ,and literature in the wizarding world, much like he did for Draco. Another guest coming was Pansy Parkinson, the daughter of a long-term friend of his fathers. A rather annoying noisy girl, but not entirely unpleasant to be around. Theodore Nott was also the son of one of Lucius’ friends, and Draco thought that he might get on the best with Altair, as he was a quiet boy who enjoyed reading. He also invited Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, mostly out of a sense of politeness. Draco had known the two burly boys since he was younger, however their intellect left much to be desired. They were useful in some ways, he supposed, but he did not consider them his closest friends.

It was a couple of hours after lunch that the first of his friends arrived, Blaise Zabini coming through the Floo on the arm of his mother, a beautiful witch with wonderfully smooth caramel skin, wearing a glimmering bejewelled robe. She released Blaise into the foyer and after giving him a kiss once she had spoken to the adult Malfoys, departed through the Floo.

Draco ran up to Blaise and hugged him, excited to see his friend again, before stepping away and tugging him towards Altair.

"Blaise, look! This is Altair! Altair say hello. . ."

"Oh, h-hello. It's nice to finally meet you," Altair spoke shyly. He was nowhere near as nervous and stuttering as when he had first moved in. As Draco's other friends arrived, Altair soon began to warm up and even started to enjoy himself, being introduced to them all in turn, and growing with confidence.

"Altair's pretty cool," Draco added, smiling, as they were now all acquainted with each other.

"I am? Oh, I mean. . . yeah, I am. Draco is always a great judge of character. . ." The group chuckled, and Draco's eyes narrowed.  "And we all judge his character. Judge it to be . . .  _pretty flawed_." Everyone laughed again, at Altair's cheeky gibe, with even Draco not able to stifle a smirk for too long. He gave Altair a forceful, yet affectionate thump on the shoulder. When he is too slow to think of a good retort - so, most of the time - he speaks with his fists.

They new gang of friends played Quidditch first, with the supervision of Narcissa, as Lucius was away on Ministry business. The Quidditch game was a lot less intense than adult matches, due to the brooms being limited in speed and height, and equipped with a charm that rebuffed physical damage to the rider. Even so, Draco was the fastest one there, zooming around on his broom, playing Chaser against Theodore to get the Quaffle through their respective goal posts. Altair and Pansy served as Keepers, with Altair hovering nervously in his goal. He was performing decently, being so new to the sport, just a little unsure on his broom. Pansy was not trying her best to prevent the Quaffle from going through the hoops behind her, believing such a position to be beneath her. Vincent and Gregory served as Beaters, naturally, due to their intimidating stature. Thankfully, the Bludgers were cushioned versions of the ones used in proper matches. Blaise played as a solo Seeker, which was a little bit fruitless, but they agreed that he could score the win for whoever had the most points at the time of him catching the Snitch. Overall, it was a lot of fun; all the children had beaming smiles on their flushed faces as they finally landed, Draco’s team celebrating the victory.

Once they had cleaned up, they spent the rest of the day playing games together in the playroom, or chatting about inconsequential topics with each other. Blaise and Theodore made the most effort to talk to Altair. Altair warmed up to them, asking them both questions about things such as the Wizarding Wireless Network, and which music they liked the most on there. He got into a big discussion with Theodore about the accuracy of their mutual literary interest,  _Morris, the Misfortunate Muggle_. Polar to their effort to get to know the new introduction to group, Pansy followed Draco around, whilst Vincent and Gregory mostly just kept to themselves, playing Exploding Snap, and barely speaking. Altair seemed pleased to meet them all, however, saying to Draco later that wizarding children were so much nicer than the ones he knew in the Muggle world - far more interesting too.

  

* * *

 

July the 7th,1989.

Today was Altair’s 9th birthday. He had been with the Malfoys for a month now, and was gradually settling in well, and spent most of his time in the library if he was not exploring and playing with Draco. It had been the happiest month of his life, beyond anything he could have ever imagined, and even now he still had to pinch himself occasionally. Or Draco could do it for him; he did rather like pinching Altair when he least expected it.

He was excelling more than he or the Malfoys had anticipated in his studies with Mr Barbour, grasping the basis of magical theory like a natural. He was still occasionally receiving etiquette training from the Malfoys, which helped him to learn how to present himself as a Pureblood heir, much like Draco, to the outside world. Whilst he still disagreed with many of their misguided comments about Muggles, Altair found that it was best not arguing with them until he had all the knowledge he could on the topic, including the politics surrounding it. He knew they pitied him; sometimes they mentioned what a poor child he was to have been raised in such an appalling place. He agreed with them on some level, wishing that he had never been in that Muggle home for children. However, he could not help thinking that it had made him far more open-minded in some senses.

He wanted to know more about his heritage, of course. He had yet to have the proper talk about his father with the Malfoy couple, which they decided would be best done just before he went to Hogwarts. All he knew was that his father, Sirius Black, had betrayed the parents of the Boy-Who-Lived, and was locked in Azkaban - the wizarding prison. He had learned this mostly through books which he managed to find once he learned to navigate the library better. He had been hoping that Mr Barbour would explain more about the last war, however it seemed he was under instruction from the Malfoys that he was not broach the subject with the boy.

Altair shook his head to clear his melancholy thoughts. It would do no good to dwell on them, on what was likely to be the most magnificent day ever, dwarfed only by the day that the Malfoys collected him from the orphanage.

Today, the house elves and Narcissa were setting up a section of the garden for the party, as well as decorating the interior. Altair watched as Narcissa instructed the elves to raise a glittering banner above the fountain, which proclaimed: _Happy 9 th Birthday, Altair!_

He still could not conceal his awe over even the most routine uses of magic, observing as Narcissa twirled her wand to summon some silver, blue, and green ribbons which cascaded down the banner, the shininess of the colours making the banner very appealing to the eye.

There was a long stretching table that was pushed up by one of the rows of hedges in the part of the garden they were in. It was covered end-to-end with an astounding array of foods from every cuisine he could imagine, and they all looked mouth-wateringly good. There was an entire section of the table devoted to a variety of desserts, including a three-tiered triple chocolate fudge cake, which had a form of magically-created icing that looked delightfully gooey.

On the opposite side of the garden to the food table, a mound of presents were stacked neatly. Altair could not believe that they were all for him, having never really received more than a cupcake on his birthdays, due to budget cuts in his Muggle home. He did not really know why there were quite so many presents; at least twenty sat in that pile, but he certainly was not ungrateful.

Once the decorations were finalised to Narcissa’s approval, the guests began to arrive at the manor via the wrought iron gate. The gate was enchanted to allow anyone who possessed a direct invitation from the Malfoys to attend. It was going to be quite a small affair, unlike the party they had for Draco last month, before they found Altair. As it was his first birthday in the magical world, they did not want to make his experience too overwhelming, so decided to hold back on the numbers they invited this time. When you are as rich and influential as the Malfoys, there is n unlimited supply of potential invitees - 'friends' if you need them to be. Draco and Altair’s friend group were attending, along with their parents. A few other people that Lucius and Narcissa knew, some with children who were younger than the boys, were also invited as a courtesy. Lucius had also extended an invitation to his long-time friend Severus, however he had declined, citing his being occupied with Hogwarts’ business.

Altair was approached by a grinning Draco, Blaise, and Theodore in tow. “Happy Birthday, Altair!” Blaise and Theodore chorused as they reached the birthday boy. Pansy arrived not long after, skipping over and sharing the same congratulations.

“Have you opened any of your gifts yet, Altair?” Pansy asked, most likely curious as to what luxurious gift the boy had received from the Malfoys.

“No, not yet. Aunt Narcissa said that it would be better to open them all in one go, to get into the spirit of things,” Altair explained, gesturing to the mountain of gifts that sat not far away from them.

“Mother always lets me open one first thing ‘cause I’m too impatient to wait,” Draco laughed.

“Aunt will do anything to keep you quiet, little  _Dragon,_ " Altair grinned, stepping slightly backwards to avoid a potential fist flying at him, but Draco just blew a raspberry at him. "It’s the first time I’ve ever even seen so many gifts in one place,” Altair admitted, catching a subtle frown on Blaise's face. Altair shrugged in response, not particularly wanting to open up about the Muggle home.

The festivities began, and Draco, Blaise, and Pansy chose to entertain Altair by introducing him to a form of dancing which essentially was jumping around wildly and waving their arms to and fro.

Altair looked on in bewilderment, glancing at Theodore who was smirking at the trio's antics. He looked around and saw Narcissa looking rather horrified at their lack of decorum, and could not help but burst out laughing, setting the others off as he did so.

After they had composed themselves as was expected of Pureblood society, it was time for Altair to open his gifts. The  _real event,_  as Draco put it.

He did not really know where to begin until Draco shouted out impatiently “JUST DO IT. RIP ONE.” It startled Altair with the push he needed, finally he tore into the beautifully decorated gifts.

From Lucius and Narcissa, Altair received a Self-Inking Quill and a never-ending journal in sapphire blue, with his full name – Altair Arcturus Black- embroidered in silver along its spine. From Draco, he received something called a Multi-Book Personal Bookmark. It was a device which you could attach to a bag or belt, or turn into a bracelet. Bright emerald in colour, if you tapped it against a book it would tell you if you had read it, or which chapter or page you were on. Altair was deeply appreciative of the Malfoys' gifts; it made him realise that they truly did understand his personality. The adults at the Muggle home never encouraged his interest in reading.

From Blaise, he received a silver, gleaming mirror, smooth and cold to the touch. Its base and stand were wonderfully designed to look like a tree. “It’s bewitched to use quotes from books to describe your appearance,” Blaise smirked.

From Theodore, Altair received  _Hogwarts, A History_ , a thick tome which Altair wanted to read straight away, eager to learn everything about the school that he would be attending in a couple of years.

He received an assortment of candy, including a bunch of Sugar Quills from Pansy, who smiled sheepishly, stating that she did not know exactly what to get him.

There was still a mound of unopened gifts, some of which were extra presents from the Malfoys. Mostly, clothes and other personal knick-knacks. There was more chocolate from various guests, a couple of books here and there. Overall, it was far more than he had ever received, and he was deeply thankful for everything that everyone had given to him.

After the gift-giving, the food was served, and the children all over-indulged until their robes felt restricting. They made sure they had room for the sinful cake though, which was the sweetest thing that Altair had ever eaten in his life.

Once the festivities were over, Altair lay in bed, smiling elatedly to himself at all the good that had happened in his life over the last month. He felt whole again, as if something he never knew was missing had been filled. He could not wait until he turned 11 and could go off to Hogwarts with Draco and learn everything he could about magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's it now for the daily uploads most likely. Still have a bit more to write for chapter 5, which I will hopefully have up at some point this week. Thanks for reading!


	5. Potions, Politics & Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter today, there was so much to fit in to get up to the point I wanted.  
> I'm going to try and get through the entirety of 1990 in one chapter next, so that I can get to 1991/Hogwarts ASAP

**Chapter 5 - Potions, Politics and Progress**

July the 18th, 1989

After the celebration of Altair’s birthday had passed, he and Draco were straight back to the last few weeks of lessons with their tutor, as he was leaving for a vacation at the end of July. Lucius had been in correspondence with Severus in the weeks since he had been to the Ministry, eager to share his findings with the man. He had refrained from writing exactly what he was concerned about, due to Severus working alongside Albus Dumbledore. He had also decided to hold off from directly infiltrating the archives for now, instead asking some of his old associates from war-time to aide him in events of the era.

Severus had been there, that fateful night when the Potters perished and their brat put a dent in the Dark Lord’s reign. He had turned up at the Malfoys' ancestral home in the middle of the night, his drenched robes dripping puddles on their floor, pacing in front of their gates distraughtly. As Lucius had remembered, he had begged the Dark Lord for mercy regarding the life of Lily Evans-Potter, James’ wife, clearly to no avail. Lucius was aware that Severus had not been entirely truthful with him about what had transpired in Godric’s Hollow that night, not that he could blame him.

They were all dragged into custody in the fallout, made to stand in front of the blundering Ministry to plead their innocence. Severus, too, was given a plea bargain under the guise of working undercover for Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord’s main opposition, and was provided the opportunity to redeem himself by working at Hogwarts. To this day, Lucius could not say for certain which side Severus truly lay on; long gone was the desperate teenager begging for freedom from his father that Lucius remembered from his own adolescence. Now, Severus was a cold man, with impenetrable mental defences and a disdain for most things, especially the raucous students he suffered teaching at Hogwarts.

However, he was still a tolerable companion, willing to listen to Lucius’ rambling about the foolishness of the Headmaster, who in his opinion was ruining the school with his ridiculous choices and obnoxious personality. In turn, Lucius would allow Severus to have his own tirade about everyone else. Together, their vicious wittiness and biting comments formed enjoyable conversations. Due to this, along with their mutual association with the Dark Lord, Lucius found himself able to overlook Severus’ lesser blood status in preference for his camaraderie.

Alas, with Severus away at Hogwarts for the majority of the year, Lucius did not get to see him as much as he would have liked. After Severus had declined an invitation to Altair’s birthday party, Lucius invited him to visit in early August, when he knew that there should be no business with the school.

He was curious how Severus would react to Altair, given that he was the child of his most hated school nemesis. He had hopes that they would get along, otherwise they had a long time ahead of them if Severus were to take his hatred out on Altair when he reached Hogwarts. Perhaps a warning to Altair would not go amiss, no doubt that Draco had only told Altair good things about the dour man, due to his idolisation of his godfather.

 

* * *

 

August the 13th, 1989

The day that Lucius had arranged to meet Severus was anticipated with much readiness by Draco and Altair. The boys tutor had left for holiday a couple of weeks ago, leaving the boys running rampant in the manor, bored with the lack of direction. Lucius and Narcissa had provided some short classes, of course, but even Altair seemed to be catching Draco’s level of frustration of being taught by familial figures.

Severus arrived through the Floo, stepping out in a graceful manner into the grand foyer, swiping imaginary dust off his voluminous black robes. A house-elf alerted Lucius to his arrival, who swiftly made his way to meet the man. Severus glanced around the foyer, a slight frown on his face, as if searching for the children. He seemed relieved when they did not appear.

The boys were upstairs playing, having just finished lunch not long ago. Lucius decided that he would discuss current affairs with Severus before introducing him to Altair. Leading Severus up the stairs and to his office on the first floor, Lucius barely spoke besides minor pleasantries, wishing to save his voice until they were in a secure room to debate subjects of real importance.

Lucius guided Severus into a firm, yet comfortable leather chair in his office, taking the seat opposite.

“Severus, my friend, tell me of your year at Hogwarts. It has simply been too long since we have been able to meet.”

Severus huffed. “Insufferable, as always. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor is as high and obnoxious as ever, resulting in a multitude of foolish mistakes when potion-making. For the life of me, I cannot comprehend why the headmaster still insists on consigning them to share classes. Sometimes I think he does it purely to antagonise me,” he ranted, with a sneer.

“Perhaps he does. Everybody knows that the man favours Gryffindor over Slytherin. Maybe he believes his reckless lions can save your house from darkness. Or perhaps, his addled mind has simply forgotten the enmity between the two houses in his decrepit old age.”

Severus released a short bark of laughter, having missed his friend’s dark humour after a year spent suffering Dumbledore’s whimsical absurdities.

“On the contrary, I think he knows exactly what he’s doing. He presents a fallacy of believing all children to be innocent, yet will allow his teaching staff to assign more detentions to Slytherins than any other house. Speaking of detentions, the Weasley twins are going to be attending this upcoming year.” Severus stated, smirking giddily at the prospect of having more Weasleys to torment.

“How many children do that blasted blood-traitor family have now?” Lucius sneered. “How they afford to have such a large brood is beyond me,” he said, sniffing disdainfully. Severus snorted in shared disgust over the Weasleys. Although the family were not as abhorrent to him as they were to Lucius, their offspring had given him many headaches throughout the years.

“I digress, I did not invite you to discuss such trivial matters, Severus. As you must know, since recovering Sirius Black’s child, I have been dealing with the Ministry. The files I acquired at the archives, specifically, draw suspicion upon your beloved headmaster.”

Severus raised an eyebrow in silent intrigue, a signal for Lucius to continue.

“Dumbledore was apparently instrumental in the transferral of Altair into that miserable Muggle ‘home’.” He paused for effect, rummaging through his desk to find the relevant papers.

Severus narrowed his eyes as Lucius withdrew the slim bundle of parchment. “Why would Dumbledore have any involvement in the _filthy mongrel’s_ spawn?” He spat. “As far as I was aware, he was only ever interested in the _Potters'_ brat.” Severus snarled the name of his once nemesis.

“Ah, Severus. I know you detested Sirius Black, however I assure you that Altair is proving to be quite the contradiction to the man we once knew.” Lucius stated, to Severus’ disbelieving expression. “Furthermore, Black proved his alliance with the correct side, all those years ago. We should judge him no further.”

“As if, Lucius! That impetuous imbecile was just reacting impulsively as he always did. Death Eater or not, the man is deranged and is where he belongs.” He scoffed, gesticulating wildly in his rage.

“Control yourself. I will not allow such blatant disrespect, Severus.” Lucius stated, glaring at his companion sharply.

“Lucius, you cannot possibly believe that Blac-,” Severus started, only to be cut off by Lucius’ raising his hand, halting his reply.

“Now, you know that I value your opinions when necessary. However, I must ask that you refrain from insulting that man, especially in the presence of Altair, when you meet him. Let old dogs lie, my friend.” Unknowingly mangling a Muggle idiom, Lucius tried to placate the man. He worried that Severus would storm out of his office in his seething fury.

After a few moments of silence which was permeated only by the sounds of Severus grinding his teeth, the man seemed to have regained some self-control.

“We are getting off track,” Severus stated, his face now devoid of any emotion.

Lucius allowed the avoidance. Severus clearly needed it, being too bound to his past.

“Indeed. As you can see here, an unnamed edict was passed, stating that Altair was to be moved to the Muggle world after his mother’s death. Minister Bagnold and Headmaster Dumbledore signed the papers,” Lucius explained, shifting the sheets towards Severus, allowing him to read the words.

“What I would like to know, exactly, is what was stated in Efora Brenmore’s will. Why would Dumbledore gain any influence in the placement of Altair? You say he was interested in the Potter child to, for good reason perhaps, given the fact he ‘defeated’ the Dark Lord. I do not recall reading any such feat having occurred with Altair, however.”

Severus nodded in agreement, a derisive smile on his lips at the supposed Boy-Who-Lived.

“Albus had an interest in Potter’s child since the day he knew the child was predicted to be born. . .” Severus trailed off and Lucius narrowed his eyes.

“Severus, if you know something that may help with my research, enlighten me.” He commanded, noticing Severus’ hesitancy. “If it helps, I know that our Lord was obsessed with finding a child in that last year before his demise. It was what furthered his insanity, and he began neglecting his original goals in his quest to seek the one he thought would defeat him.”

“I don’t believe it to be relevant, Lucius. There was a prophecy of some kind, although I do not know all of the details, which began the Dark Lord’s pursuit of the Potter boy.” Severus waved his hand dismissively, before continuing. “I don’t understand Albus’ motivations for this order, why move Altair? It was three years post-war, so safety could not have really been a matter. If anything, the child would have remained secure in France, as they have not had any specific unrest since Grindlewald’s attacks.”

“Exactly. Why would the Minister and Dumbledore have stolen Altair from his wizarding heritage? This is precisely why I must somehow gain access to his mother’s will. Did Dumbledore truly not mention anything of Altair? The mention of his birth was obscure, and it was nearly impossible to find any data on the boy all those years ago.”

“How do you propose to access the will, Lucius? You know they are kept strictly under lockdown, regardless of whether it is based with Gringotts or the Ministry. No, Albus has hardly mentioned Black since his incarceration, and I don’t believe him to have ever spoken of a son.”

“I have my ways, as you well know. I’m sure that, after a little prodding and pushing, I can gain what I require. Of course, it will help immensely once we can finalise our magical adoption of Altair,” Lucius said, silently speculating on what was taking the Ministry so long to receive his request.

“Odd that he would not mention the man, is it not? Was Black not one of their top fighters in their cursed Order?” Lucius asked. “Traitor or not, this only confirms my suspicions of Ministry tampering. Perhaps they wanted to cover up even the simple fact that Sirius had a child?”

“But then why would they have transferred him back here, Lucius?” Severus countered, pointedly avoiding answering Lucius’ questions on Sirius. His retort mirrored Lucius’ own ponderings from when he read the files himself, and Lucius knew that they would get no further.

He decided to conclude their discussion, believing that they had spent a sufficient amount of time sharing their contemplations. The time for the boys’ potion class was fast approaching, and Lucius and Severus hastened through the lengthy corridors of the manor.

 

* * *

 

They found the boys sitting at a round table in the corner of the library, books and parchment spread in front of them. They were having a giggling, whispered conversation which halted as the men entered the room. Draco hopped up as they were approached, and he dashed across to meet the men halfway.

“Uncle Severus!” Draco squealed excitedly, hugging the man tightly across his middle.

“Hello, Draco,” Severus replied, returning the hug. He was always surprised by Draco’s enthusiasm.

Draco disentangled himself and ran back to the boy who had been getting closer. Altair was smiling timidly, and at Draco’s urging, stepped forwards, closing the gap between them.

“And you must be Altair?” Severus enquired. “I am Severus Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts, and Draco’s godfather.” He inclined his head as a greeting.

Altair nodded. “Yes, sir.” He said, politely. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to your classes so much ever since Draco told me about them!”

 _Well, the child certainly has better manners than his double-crossing father_ , Severus thought. He observed the child subtly, taking in his startlingly grey eyes, sharper in colour than Draco’s. His hair was similar in style and texture as his father’s, framing his face in deceiving angelic waves. His aristocratic nose and chin suited him in a way that only Purebloods could pull off. Essentially, he was the spitting image of Sirius.

“Have you indeed? Potion-making is a useful skill to have in later life, so I am. . . pleased. . . by your interest in the subject.” Severus struggled to find a positive word, feeling shaken at the child’s resemblance to his teenage antagonist.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Uncle Sev, it’s all he’s talked about for _weeks_ now, since Mr Barbour left. He’s been _sooo_ desperate to meet you.” Draco snorted with laughter, smirking at Altair.

Altair scowled, blushing faintly. “Please, Draco. I seem to be experiencing memories of you saying ‘Oh, Uncle Severus is _amazing_!’, ‘Oh, he’s the most talented Professor’, ‘Sev knows _everything_ about potions’. You know you’ve been as excited for this as I have!” he stated, imitating Draco by using a mockingly high pitched whiney voice. He began to metamorphose his facial features with apparent ease, gradually starting to resemble the face of Draco.

To Altair’s bemusement, Draco did not respond in his usual violent manner, and instead adopted a smug expression after Altair’s ridicule. Frowning in confusion, Altair turned back to the adults, who were suspiciously poker-faced. The adults! Altair flushed, mortified, and his genetic features returned. He shot a betrayed look towards Draco, who just smiled innocently, a knowing twinkle in his grey eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Altair’s appearance-changing abilities, and glanced at Lucius questioningly.

“Lucius neglected to mention that you possess the ability of a Metamorphmagus, Altair,” Severus probed when Lucius decided to remain silently smug.

“Oh, er, y-yeah, I am,” he mumbled, looking sheepish as Draco continued to grin.

Lucius rolled his eyes at Altair’s stilted speech, knowing that there was still work to be had in eradicating his self-doubt, at least in the presence of others. To lack control over one’s thoughts and emotions was dangerous and weak.

Lucius led the group through the manor, down to the subterranean rooms, where lay the dungeons, house-elf quarters, and the potions laboratory. Although in the basement, the workroom was not too dark or damp, and the atmosphere was maintained properly with enough circulation of air.

Altair gazed around the room curiously, seeing the collection of ingredients kept in jars on high shelves around the room. The desks were tall, reaching Altair’s chest. Black metal legs supported the deep mahogany wooden surface, and padded leather stools were tucked underneath. Two small-sized cauldrons, which appeared to be made from copper, resided on the counter top. Once the children had settled into their seats, and a quick word was exchanged with Severus, Lucius left them to it.

Severus looked around and nodded in approval; whilst the Malfoys' potions lab was not quite up to his personal preference, they always provided adequate ingredients. At the wave of Severus’ wand, the base began to produce a bright purple flame, heating the cauldrons at a rapid speed. He flicked his wand and levitated a piece of chalk, which transcribed ‘Boil-Cure’ on the blackboard behind him.

He turned to face the boys, his dark robes whirling behind him. “Draco, I know you have done this potion before and will no doubt whine about how boring it is. I am sure you’ll be delighted to know that I’ve arranged a simple theory test for you about the potion we will practice next time,” Severus revealed, summoning the relevant parchments and placing them in front of a pouting Draco.

Focusing on Altair, he began to explain. “This potion is designed to cure any form of pimple or boil. This recipe is the more simplistic form of a stronger version, using different, easily procurable ingredients. We will review the formal potion before you attend Hogwarts.”

Waving his hand, the chalk began to scribe the ingredients on the blackboard:

_Pungous Onions_

_Flobberworm Mucus_

_Ginger Root_

_Shrake Spines_

As he had with Draco, Severus had chosen this recipe because the ingredients did not cause a skin irritation if touched before completion. It was also an easier, weaker version of the main recipe that most favoured.

Severus assisted Altair in choosing his ingredients from the shelving, condemning any he deemed unsuitable.

As they unsealed the jar for Pungous Onion, Altair gagged at the foul smell.

“Errgh! That’s disgusting!”

“It’s called Punguous Onion for a reason,” Severus specified, guiding Altair back to the table near where Draco sat.

“It almost smells as bad as your feet when you take your socks off,” Draco quipped, smirking. Altair rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the boy, much to Severus’ begrudging approval.

He explained the fundamentals to Altair, differentiating between the different types and colour of potion water, and the reactions required to result in perfection.

“You must follow most recipes to the letter, as deviations may cause explosions, injury, and all manner of dangerous consequences. A potioneer requires a deep understanding of ingredients and potion-theory, before they can adjust traditional recipes effectively.”

Altair nodded, agreeing that he would not tamper with the ingredients and looked at Draco in warning.

As Altair followed the recipe, Severus observed the child. He was focused as he added the Shrake spines, his tongue poking out in concentration as he stirred the potion gently. Severus was surprised by himself in how he had responded to Altair. He had expected a brash, vindictive child, arrogant like his traitorous father - Sirius Black. Instead, the child was almost . . . pleasant. Perhaps it was his Muggle upbringing, and the fact that Sirius had managed to reproduce with someone who was not directly related to him.

“Sir, is this right? It’s not quite as red as the recipe said,” Altair interrupted Severus’ musings, calling him to look in his cauldron.

The potion was a rusty red. “The reason it isn’t the bright red as expected, is because you did not stir the ginger root harshly enough. Still, a passable first attempt.” High praise, coming from Severus.

 _Yes, the child is quite unlike his father_. He held potential, and the Malfoys would no doubt smother any foolish Gryffindor unruliness before Altair reached Hogwarts age.

Concluding the lesson, Severus bottled the potion and put it aside in his cloak. He collected Draco’s theory work, and left via the Floo after a brief farewell to Lucius and Narcissa.

 

* * *

 

 September the 15th, 1989

Since his visit with Severus, Lucius had spent the last month reviewing everything he knew about Minister Bagnold and her government. He had managed to gain access to copies of her major policies, picking out those that had been most controversial. To his frustration, there was nothing directly worded in those he found that had any mention of the order he discovered about Altair’s relocation to the Muggle world. He decided he might be better off looking further back, into the death of Efora Brenmore, and the incarceration of Sirius.

Searching the archives at the Ministry, he found Efora’s death certificate. He had thought that she must have fled to France due to her tarnished reputation from his imprisonment. Her death seemed rather untimely though; it was also listed as ‘unexplained, but not suspicious’. No actual _cause_ of death was noted, which certainly made it dubious in Lucius’ eyes, as most were traceable. In the order decreed by Minister Bagnold and Dumbledore, Altair’s return to England was ‘undisclosed’. This struck him as being strange; would Efora Brenmore not have adjusted her will to determine where her son should be placed? Accessing her will would be difficult, however, and he was wary to consult with the Goblins if the Ministry did not hold it. He could not afford to be caught digging too deep whilst Minister Bagnold remained in high regard.

Still, Lucius needed to know _more_.

Changing direction, he delved into the trial transcripts in the archives, as law related content was mostly accessible without higher authorisation. He gathered up several relevant trial records, including his own, and was bewildered to find that there was no transcript for the trial of Sirius Black. He noticed that there was no copy for Bellatrix – Narcissa’s Sister – or her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. Evan Rosier and Bartemius Crouch Jr’s cases were also missing. He wondered if it was perhaps because they were such controversial cases. The people in question were deemed more dangerous than those in other trials conducted at the time, causing them to be kept out of the public records.

The frustration was palpable as he realised he would have to go through trickier channels to access that information. Not to mention, Minister Bagnold may get suspicious if he began digging through Death Eater files after appealing for the magical adoption of Altair. It would not bode well to have them think he was up to something nefarious. Which, usually, he would be. However, in this case, it was in the best interests of his ward that he got to the bottom of the convoluted procedures that had led to him being abandoned in the Muggle world.

It was also vital that he determined who Altair’s magical guardian was presently, as Sirius’ guardianship was technically revoked from his imprisonment. Lucius and Narcissa’s progress in securing wizarding guardianship was blocked due to an unnamed person holding the title. How the Ministry had allowed so many documents to keep such vague, clearly hidden, information was outrageous to Lucius. This just furthered his suspicions that there was something Minister Bagnold was hiding, he just was not sure exactly _what_ would be so important that they needed to obscure the documentation of a child.

 

* * *

 

October the 18th, 1989

Deciding that he would get nowhere debating the philosophical doubts of why, what, and where, Lucius decided to visit the Department of Magical Children’s Health and Welfare. Approaching an office on Level 2 of the Ministry building, he entered a door titled " _Adoption, fostering and magical surrogacy"_ , a subcategory of the DMCHW. 

Striding swiftly to the counter, praying silently to Merlin that he did not have to suffer another imbecile that the Ministry seemed to enjoy employing.

A bumbling old witch with reading spectacles came out from behind a nearby cubicle, clutching a pile of paperwork, and not noticing Lucius standing imperiously in front of the desk. Lucius despaired over those who did not use their brilliant magic to make such mundane difficulties easy for themselves. " _Valerie Walwesh"_ , her tag read. Watching as she finally tottered over to her desk, the parchments teetering precariously before she dropped them onto the desk with a loud _THWACK_!

She finally looked up, gasping in shock at seeing the imposing figure that was Lucius Malfoy. A haughty curl of his lip revealed his distaste at the organisation of the woman, and she felt shame flood through her.

“Greetings, Ms Walwesh. I have an urgent need to access some files regarding my current ward,” Lucius stated, staring at her expectantly.

“Oh, I’m ter-terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy. I didn’t see you there! Please forgive me, it’s been a very tiring day. . .” she trailed off, pushing her glasses upwards with a gnarled finger.

“Indeed? I, personally, find the consistent uninspiring dolts that the Ministry keep in their service to be _extremely_ exhausting.” Lucius drawled, no longer having the patience to play nice. “I require an immediate report on the progress of my request to gain magical guardianship and adopter of one Altair Arcturus Black, and request knowledge of who currently holds the status.”

Walwesh looked affronted at his attitude, glancing pointedly towards the chaotic pile on her desk as if that would explain all her inadequacies away. Lucius’ hand twitched towards his wand, torn between cursing the woman or just magically destroying her papers.

“I’ll need to know when you placed this request, Mr Malfoy. Mallory – she’s the one in charge of your case, I believe, is on annual leave,” the woman conceded, sensing that she was not going to gain any sympathy from the man.

“For the love of Merlin, will you people ever do your jobs quickly and efficiently? This is the case of a child, the least your colleague could have done would be to notify us by owl.”

Lucius was furious. He had put forward that request on the very day they had brought Altair home, and told her so.

“I apo-apologise, Mr Malfoy. Our department is very busy, you see, and I’m sorry to say that your request did not make priority. However, let me have a loo-.”

“ _Excuse me_? ‘Did not make priority’, you say? Is it not your motto that every child is a priority?” Lucius hissed, interrupting the woman and leaning over the desk, “I suggest that you locate those files, and tell me the status, _immediately_.”

Walwesh blustered nervously, flapping her hands and Lucius honestly thought he might have to resort to blackmail or possibly the Imperius Curse to get what he wanted. Thankfully, the woman evidently possessed a semblance of self-preservation and scampered away and went through one of the doors across the room.

Lucius tapped his foot impatiently whilst he awaited her return, still seething at the inadequacies of the Ministry. If only the Dark Lord had not fallen prey to insanity. Perhaps he could have brought the wizarding world to the glory he had promised to Lucius’ father Abraxas in their youth.

When Walwesh returned, she did not appear like somebody who had found what Lucius required, and his grey eyes radiated a chill frostier than the Antarctic as she approached him. She was wielding a small file, with a notation on it in hardly legible handwriting.

“Erm, I’m sorry to say, Mr Malfoy. . .” she fidgeted nervously. “The case is currently halted due to lack of support, and is under investigation because of missing files. With Mallory away, it means the case may not get put through for further authorisation for another few months.” Her hands were trembling, fearful of the response of Lucius.

Lucius did not respond in the rage that Walwesh was anticipating, as he had already been taking deep breaths since she left the room. His anger would be wasted on her, and her words only confirmed that there was foul play. A cover-up of such large proportions, that even the social workers had no clue. As he remained silent, the woman continued speaking, clearly trying to appease him.

“This doesn’t mean you can’t keep Altair B-Black, for now, of course. You have Muggle guardianship, so, that leaves you some security. It’s just a matter of details, really, and without having them immediately available, it can take a while.”

His eyes narrowed. “Does it state anything specifically about why it has been halted? I am eager to know why I was not notified and had to resort to coming in on my own volition to get what I deem to be very significant news.”

“I’m not permitted to disclose that, Mr Malfoy. I can tell you that I don’t think it’s anything to do with yourself personally, and is more to do with lack of resources. As for the lack of notification. . . I guess it was side-tracked, with Mallory away. I apologise for the inconvenience.”

“I am a very well-connected man, Ms Walwesh, and I will not hesitate in utilising those connections. The incompetency in this department is unacceptable. It is unbelievable that after all my wife and I have been through, to find Altair and give him a good life, it is now being put on hold over Ministry ineptitude. I will be in contact.”

With that, he stomped out of the office to the Atrium to return home, sick of the Ministry and its ridiculousness. As much as Lucius was a corrupt man himself, he could not stand for this. It was astounding how this was even allowed, the lack of information and missing files worried him deeply. _What am I missing?_

Refraining from further confrontation with the Ministry about their secrecy, he instead decided to tentatively consult the goblins, whom he believed to be in possession of Efora Brenmore’s will.

Lucius had discussed his concerns with Narcissa, believing that due to her status as a Black, her assistance may prove to be productive. Together, they devised a meeting with the Black family branch manager at Gringotts, Bogrod. Lucius had contemplated bringing Altair along, as it was the will of his mother that they were after, and believed that the goblins may be more forthcoming if he were present. Narcissa had dissuaded Lucius, however, stating that the boy was 'far too young to be involved in politics'. She would take no further argument from Lucius.

 

* * *

 

 November the 27th, 1989

“I want to come, Mother! Please? It’s not fair, Altair hasn’t seen Diagon yet,” Draco whined, clinging to Narcissa’s robes.

It was the day of their meeting, and Draco and Altair were to stay at the manor under the care of the house-elves. That is, once Draco stopped his whinging.

“No, Dragon. It will be boring and you know it. Your father and I have important business at the bank,” Narcissa enforced, peeling Draco’s fingers off her robe. She turned to Altair. “I’m sorry, Altair. I know you most likely wish to come with us as well, but I promise you that we will go another time.”

“I mean, I want to, but I know whatever you’re doing is important. Come on Draco, let’s go find Mimsy and see if we can trick her again,” Altair said, grabbing Draco’s wrist to tug him away. They had taken to playing hide and seek with the elves, fooling them by using Altair’s Metamorphmagus abilities.

Narcissa smoothed her robes out once they had gone, Draco’s hands had wrinkled them and she did not want to appear imperfect for the meeting. Although Draco had matured in many ways, especially since Altair had begun living with them, he was still a temperamental child, prone to the occasional bout of rebellious tantrums.

Lucius joined Narcissa in the foyer, and together they Floo’d to Diagon Alley, to a more prosperous hotel lobby as opposed to the Leaky Cauldron. Making their way towards the steps of the imposing bank, passing two immobile goblins standing guard. Once inside, they approached a counter.

“Greetings. My wife and I are due for a meeting with our family’s account manager,” Lucius stated plainly, as goblins were not known for their love of communication.

The goblin peered down at him from his perch above the elevated counter. “Papers, please,” the diminutive creature requested.

Once the necessary document was reviewed, the teller beckoned another goblin to lead them to one of the private conference rooms at the side of the main reception. The stout figure of Bogrod awaited them, dressed smartly in a small suit, and sitting in a chair with an oversized back.

“Lord and Lady Malfoy, it's a pleasure,” Bogrod said, indicating for the couple to take their seats.

“Your letter stated that you require my assistance, however it failed to mention what you needed it for,” the goblin stated bluntly, waving towards the mail from Lucius.

“The lack of information was due to confidentiality reasons, as well as this being something best discussed in person,” Lucius explained, as his letter had essentially demanded a meeting at the goblin's earliest convenience.

“And what precisely is ‘this’ subject that requires so much ambiguity?” Bogrod enquired, no patience for hesitancy.

“It pertains to the guardianship case of our ward, one Altair Arcturus Black. I’m sure you’re aware of his father. I am hoping that you hold a copy of his mother’s will, or at least some knowledge on who the boy’s current magical guardian is. It is because of this, and the incompetent personnel of the Ministry, that our progress to magically adopt him is being blocked,” Lucius elucidated.

Bogrod’s face twisted into a sneer. “Why, exactly, should I share anything with you? Even if Narcissa is a direct relation to the Black heir, she is not automatically entitled to access that branch of the family accounts without permission from the holder. None which is easily accessible, given Sirius Black is imprisoned and his named wife deceased.”

Lucius eyed the goblin shrewdly, his mind analysing Bogrod’s choice of phrasing, he had confirmed that Gringott’s did indeed hold the will. It seemed that he may not be averse to monetary persuasion, and Lucius silently weighed up the advantages and disadvantages of beginning a bribe-based bartering battle. Goblins were notoriously greedy, and would not settle for anything less than what would make most wizards poor. Lucius was one of the wealthiest men in the wizarding world, yet he did not want to resort to just offering the goblin piles of gold, as no doubt the demands would not stop.

“Why, I do believe something that may prove my relation to the Black family,” Narcissa suggested softly. “I have power of attorney over my imprisoned sister’s vault, you see, and if I recall correctly, she is in possession of several goblin-made artefacts. I’m sure, with her absence, and our grand wealth, she would not notice if those were to go amiss back into the hands of their rightful owners. Of course, I could not knowingly take something so valuable away without making sure Altair is well protected in his future.” She negotiated, playing with a jewelled ring on her finger.

Lucius was shocked at Narcissa, to think she would offer up the most valuable items in Bellatrix’s vault. He observed her face, head held high in power and a look of determination on her ethereal features. Knowing her longstanding wish to adopt Altair and reclaim some ties to her family, he understood the drive behind her high offer. _Still, it would put a dent in the vault, and if Bellatrix was ever released. . ._

Bogrod’s eyes sharpened with greed and his lip curled in victory. He leaned over the desk, practically drooling. “Is that so? If those items were to be donated back to Gringott’s, anonymously, perhaps I could overlook the years of thievery in your family. As the only other Black who has not been disinherited, I’m sure I could write you a letter of glowing recommendation, with your hopes to bring back integrity to the Black family.”

“That is exactly what I’m aiming to do, Bogrod. it’s certainly a shame that Sirius’ accounts have been frozen, unable to capitalise on bonds and bounties they must have acquired from their shares over the years. Similarly, it is saddening to the child that he is not able to connect with his mother, having none of her possessions.” Narcissa spoke, a playful smile upon her lips.

“Indeed, in that case it is only natural that you are immediately allowed access to Sirius Black’s vaults, having proved your willingness to bring prosperity to the vaults once again. It also happens to be a matter of child security, as you say, the poor orphaned child has not been able to access his heirlooms, having never witnessed a will,” Bogrod agreed, summoning a pile of legal parchments.

Within the pile was a blank piece of parchment, upon which Bogrod drew a magically binding contract, locking both Narcissa and the goblin to hold up to their ends. The goblins would reclaim their lost artefacts, and Narcissa would gain admittance to Sirius Black’s vaults, including the one shared with Efora Black. Neither could be held accountable by anyone other than each other in the loss or damage of any goods if the original account owners were to regain access.

 _Finally_ , Lucius thought to himself, immeasurably proud of his wife. He could not have bartered with the goblin as she did, as he was too tight-fisted in regard to the many relics his own family vaults held.

Bogrod led them down to the vault, and the moment Lucius’ hand enclosed the envelope which contained Efora Brenmore’s will he felt triumph flow through him. If only he had sought out the goblins first, instead of the insufferable convoluted laws of the Ministry.

Ripping open the parchment eagerly, his eyes combed the pages rapidly until he found what he was looking for.

_In the event of my death, I hereby declare that my son, Altair Arcturus Black, is to be cared for by a suitable magical guardian as decided by the courts, including custody, where the guardian must care for Altair until he turns seventeen.  He is to be educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the United Kingdom, which has already been paid for. Altair, and Altair alone, will become eligible to inherit all Brenmore accounts and holdings upon his seventeenth birthday. He will be permitted access to the Black & Brenmore shared account, containing his trust funds, immediately after my death._

_Efora Nikoletta Brenmore-Black_


	6. Fudge, Festivities & Family

**Chapter 6 - Fudge, Festivities & Family**

December, 1989

The month of December brought with it a scattering of snow across the grounds of Malfoy manor, creating a sense of calm within the walls and frosty windows of the building. Inside, however, Lucius had been in a chaotic flurry, sending owl after owl out of the window in his office each day. Since he had visited Gringotts, he had been trying to chase down any hint of a court case for the custody of Altair. His probes within the Ministry had found no such mention, and given the way that Altair’s Ministry files were cloaked in obscurity, he was not surprised. Altair’s magical guardian still had not been named, so clearly there had been no court case. No sooner than even an hour after returning from Gringotts, Lucius had holed up within his office, turning away all elves and requests from his family.

First, he had written to Cornelius Fudge, who served as Minister Bagnold’s aide, but was aiming to take over her position in the upcoming election.

_Undersecretary Fudge,_

_I write to you in utmost confidence, Cornelius. I believe I am starting to unravel one of the many cover-ups that I have long suspected Minister Bagnold to have allowed. If I am correct in my research, this could be a valuable tactic to reveal to the world the corruption that her government employs to keep their disorganisation hidden._

_Perhaps we ought to meet to discuss this, after Yule has passed, and I have discovered more._

_Your friend and supporter,_

_Lucius Abraxis Malfoy_

Fudge was far easier to manipulate than Bagnold. The man liked to pretend he was full of cunning and ambition, but really, he was just a greedy pushover, eager to follow advice from Lucius for the right price. Lucius knew that if Fudge got elected, more of his own agendas would get pushed through. Thus, Fudge allowed Lucius’ advice on most matters, and Lucius allowed himself to suffer the fool's company. If Lucius did uncover a more sinister truth in relation to Altair, then he knew Fudge would be eager to assist to secure his win in the election.

He wrote another letter, this time to the Department of Magical Children’s Health and Welfare.

_Ms Walwesh,_

_As I have yet to receive an owl from your colleague, I assume that there have been no updates on my case with Altair Black. Whilst your department seems to move slowly into acquiring the files you need, I have done the kind favour of obtaining them for you._

_As you can see in the enclosed attachment, the will of Efora Brenmore states that Altair was to have received a custody trial in the courts. Through my research, I have yet to determine whether this occurred. Odd, is it not? Altair clearly has a listed magical guardian, and yet none has been forthcoming._

_Believe me, I will get to the bottom of this. I trust that you will now be more communicative with me in the future. At the end of the day, we both wish for the security of a child. To think his supposed magical guardian left him abandoned within the Muggle world and still has not come forward is alarming. It is imperative that we discover whoever holds the title, so that Altair can be welcomed into our family fully._

_I shall be visiting your office in January. If you hear anything in the meantime, alert me._

_Regards,_

_Lucius Abraxas Malfoy_

Lucius had also been owling his old colleagues from the war, requesting any information on Sirius Black, particularly his hidden trial transcripts. He knew he needed to visit the archives again, however was wary to do so before the turn of the year. He had turned to his own records instead, any newspaper clippings he had saved towards the fall of the Dark Lord. He needed to find something more damning to bring down Bagnold and prove her transgressions, however she had maintained a relatively clean reputation since her capture of the most notable Death Eaters. Still, she was getting on in years, and if all else failed, he was sure he could _persuade_ her to retire if need be.

Whilst Lucius was in a flurry, holed up in his office for the first weeks of December, the rest of the Malfoy family were eagerly awaiting Yule. It would be Altair’s first traditional holiday within the wizarding world, as his aunt and uncle did not allow Draco or Altair to take part in the rituals of Samhain, deeming the practices too disturbing for the children. Draco had been surprisingly tight-lipped regarding the details of what would occur in the Yule festivities, only smiling mysteriously when Altair probed him for information.

 

* * *

 

Altair had noticed that ever since Lucius and Narcissa had visited Diagon Alley, Narcissa had been spending more time trying to bond with him. She was more affectionate with him now than ever, she would often run her fingers through his hair or stroke his cheek. Her eyes were warmer when she watched him with her whitish blue eyes, softening into a smile he had thought she reserved only for Draco. She would come into his room occasionally, especially in the last weeks leading up to Yule, dancing around him and helping him choose his outfit for the day.

“Ohh, I’m so pleased you inherited some of the more dominant physical traits of the Black family, Altair!” She expressed, circling around where Altair was standing in front of the wardrobe, blocking his view to the mirror. She fiddled with his robes, adjusting them and straightening them, before stepping away. He was dressed in a forest green robe which had gems instead of buttons, creating a kaleidoscopic effect whenever the light hit him in a certain way. They were one of the masterful designs of Mr Eleganza, who had created several variations for the entire Malfoy family, understanding that they must be dressed the best on their special day.

“Sirius always suited robes such as these the best. The bright colours are so complementary to your features. Oh, you look just like him,” she sighed, eyes becoming distant. Whilst they were never especially close, Sirius did always make family reunions more interesting when they were children. Before his rebellion truly festered and he rejected his noble lineage, he was arrogant in a charming way; better around his cousins and aunts than he ever was his parents.

Altair regarded himself in the mirror, he typically had no problem with his looks and occasionally even forgot that he had someone he resembled. A parent that he had inherited his looks from. He bit his lip and looked away from the mirror.

“What is on your mind, Altair? I thought we had ended your lip-biting habit,” Narcissa chided, as she believed this nervous tic ruined the image she was trying to create.

“Sorry, aunt. It’s just. . . you and other people have all said I look like _him_ , but I – I haven’t even seen a picture of him besides that prison one!”

Narcissa frowned and put her arm around Altair’s shoulders. “Oh, child. I apologise, perhaps it was insensitive of me. I don’t have many photos to show you, I’m afraid, but there are certainly some before he. . . well, I will try to find them and we can look at them together over the Yule?” she offered, feeling ashamed that she had kept such things hidden from Altair. She had worried that it would upset the boy to see photographs of his absent father, locked away as a criminal, thus she had kept the old pictures away from him.

At his nod, she leaned down and gave him a hug. The main reason she had wanted to adopt Altair was to regain a connection to the Black family, as most of them were deceased, detained or disinherited. He and Draco were the last male heirs to the side, and Altair was the last one eligible to carry the noble surname ‘Black’ through to the future. Whilst Sirius remained incarcerated, in any case.

Narcissa hoped that their findings in the Black vault would prove prosperous for them regarding their petition to become the legal magical guardians of Altair. Lucius seemed to be taking it very seriously, and she and the boys had seen barely hide nor hair of him, given he had sequestered himself to his office. However, as the 25th came closer and his letters seemed to have decreased, he made more appearances at mealtimes. They had spent the last few days decorating the manor, setting up the tree and family rooms, the manor set to shine and sparkle in all its splendour.

 

* * *

 

December the 25th, 1989

Altair was awoken at the crack of dawn by Draco, something which had not happened for some time. Today he could forgive the boy, however, as it was his first Yule! Really, he was going to count it as his first Christmas too, having never previously received gifts on the day.

“Merry Yuletide, Altair!” Draco exclaimed after dragging the boy from bed, enveloping him in a hug.

“Merry Yule, Draco. What time is it? Are we actually allowed to be up this early?” Altair asked, blinking sleepily towards a window which showed how dark it was still outside.

“Alt, it’s Yule for Merlin’s sake. _Of_ _course_ we’re allowed to be up this early! We don’t even have to get dressed, either. No time really, far too many presents to open! Aren’t you excited?” Draco asked, tugging Altair from their wing.

“Of course, I’m ex-,” Altair’s speech was disrupted by a yawn, “Excited – sorry. You know what I’m like in the mornings. . .”

Altair promptly woke up, however, when his eyes fell upon the many gifts that were piled underneath the tree in the main family room. A glittering expanse lay beneath the vastly decorated tree, far more gifts than he had counted on his birthday.

“Good morning, boys! Merry Yule,” Narcissa greeted them, kissing each on the cheek. Lucius followed her into the room, repeating her sentiments.

Altair learned the Malfoys' tradition of gift giving began with the youngest member opening a gift, and then the next eldest and so on, meaning Altair opened first and Lucius last. Altair received more books than he could ask for, however his most cherished gift was a photo album he received from his aunt.

The cover of the album was decorated with glittering depictions of the constellations the Black family tended to be named after. Within, were photos of Narcissa and her family, the Blacks. It was mostly photos of Narcissa and her sisters when they were younger, however there were several candid shots of Sirius at their larger family gatherings. A teenage Sirius winked and cocked a finger at Altair when he gazed at a picture, taking in the details of his father’s face. Altair could see the resemblance and he did not hate it as much as he thought he would, given that photo he had seen all those years ago.

“Thank you so much, aunt. This means so much to me. . .” Altair trailed off. “I wished to- to know more about him. Before he went. . . bad,” he explained, giving her a gentle hug.

“I will go through each picture with you at some point, if you wish. There are so many stories I could tell you from our youth,” Narcissa smiled in remembrance. “He had a real personality, and it’s such a shame. Nevertheless, you are welcome, and please feel free to speak to me if you have questions.”

After the rest of the gifts were opened, many trinkets and toys, more books and quills, the Malfoys enjoyed a day of decadence, indulging in a fanciful late breakfast and an even later dinner.

 

* * *

 

January the 5th, 1990

_Lord Malfoy,_

_I have some news which may interest you. Thanks to your recovery of Efora Brenmore’s will, the case of your ward, Altair Arcturus Black has been reopened. At present that does not mean much, however, as there is still some research to be undertaken. However, if we do not find adequate legal files regarding his current magical guardian, we will automatically invite you to a court date to discuss the terms of your adoption._

_I have now taken over the case myself, and hope to have results as soon as possible. I apologise for our earlier disorganisation, and will see that it won’t happen again. Perhaps a meeting to discuss our progress would be worthwhile, return owl to me about your availability._

_Best regards,_

_Valerie Walwesh_

_Department of Magical Children’s Health and Welfare_

January the 18th, 1990

Lucius had nearly forgotten about his letter to the DMCHW, however he was pleasantly surprised that Ms Walwesh had adjusted her behaviour to be more efficient. It was not until the middle of January that he was able to visit the Ministry, but he decided to tie the meeting in with a visit to Fudge.

“Greetings, Ms Walwesh. Thank you for your letter, I am pleased to see that things seem to be improving within this office,” Lucius acknowledged, glancing contemptuously at the desk of the lady who was originally in charge of his case.

“Ah, Lord Malfoy, I’m glad you are here. I have more news since that letter that I must share with you. Sit down, sit down,” Walwesh said, pointing to a chair in front of her desk. Lucius sat down, intrigued at whatever the woman had found.

“I didn’t send this in an owl as it is rather important, and I knew we had this meeting scheduled. Since you gave us the missing copy of Efora Brenmore’s will, we have been digging into who may have become guardian of Altair. After much research, it has become apparent that whoever it is has had their identity hidden. There is no record of such a court case happening, as was required by terms of the will, thus rendering it null and void. The fact that Altair was abandoned in the Muggle world works against whoever the guardian is, also. Not only had they gained illegal guardianship, they neglected their duty and rejected the rules determined by the will,” Walwesh explained briskly, knowing that Lucius disliked dithering.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “How exactly does that occur? Surely the Ministry keeps track of important happenings such as this? You truly have no idea of who could be the current guardian?” he asked. It was outrageous, to think that something like this could have remained hidden for so long.

“I honestly can’t say. I am assuming it is something to do with the chaos following the end of the last war. Many people went missing, unreported and the Ministry was upheaved and in disarray with a host of criminal cases. If we end up finding the guardian, they will be taken to court; what they did was illegal and - by terms of the will - counts as abduction,” Valerie stated, drawing out the legally binding requests of the will.

“Tell me, do you have access to Sirius Black’s trial transcript? That is another thing I discovered missing, along with others. I have not yet had clearance to search through the secure areas of the archives myself. I find myself wondering if it is all connected somehow, as if they were trying to smother any knowledge of the Blacks,” Lucius pondered, hoping the woman may have high enough authority to get into the trial cases.

Valerie frowned, and looked down to rummage through her papers.

“Let me see. . . hmm. Yes, we may be able to gain access to the accounts of his trial, as the case pertains to his child. Forgive me, however, I don’t see really how it is relevant to the custody of Altair - the man is a criminal and in prison; he has no say over Altair’s dwellings.”

Lucius tutted. “Perhaps not directly so. However, if the Ministry has been willing to obscure Altair’s files, who’s to say there is not something more nefarious afoot?”

Walwesh looked conflicted. Evidently, she wanted to believe the best of her precious Ministry. Lucius was a staunch supporter of the Ministry himself, dabbling in the Wizengamot occasionally. However, under Bagnold’s rule, it had fallen to shambles. Whilst she had secured her power after the successful arrests of many Death Eaters, her agendas and way of ruling was sloppy and full of errors. Her cabinet was utterly useless, Fudge being perhaps the only useful one, if just because of his adoration of wealth and respect for the Purebloods.

“I suppose I see where you’re coming from. . . I will try to get access to the files. I can’t say how long that will take, though. The Ministry is under pressure at the moment, with the upcoming election in April. I think our main priority is finding out who managed to evade the system and hide Altair away. Perhaps they will turn up when we go to court,” Walwesh suggested.

“Indeed. The election will certainly be one of the most vital of this century. I shall try to gain clearance to access the files myself, perhaps I shall have more luck, faster too, than your department,” Lucius said, not caring if he offended the woman. “Thank you for your assistance, good day.” Lucius bid the woman farewell and went on his way to meet Cornelius Fudge.

 

* * *

 

 “Ah, Lucius!” The portly man greeted him once he had made his way to the office.

“Cornelius, good to see you. I trust you had a pleasant Yule?” Lucius asked, shaking his hand.

“Indeed, my friend, indeed! And yours? Have Narcissa and the children been well?” Fudge enquired, sitting down and indicating for Lucius to do the same.

“Yes, thank you. Our Yule was wonderful, the children enjoyed themselves immensely, Altair especially so, given he is still adjusting to our customs. How has your campaign been progressing?”

“Oh why, decently so far, I believe. I seem to have support from many within Bagnold’s cabinet. She’s been rather distant since she figured out that I was running, but I think she knows that she’s past her prime. Things begin to stagnate after one person remains in office for so long,” Fudge explained.

“Undeniably. I believe I have the foundations of something which may help you discredit Bagnold and work your way into power, Cornelius. Not that your campaign isn’t going swimmingly, of course, however it always helps to have. . . security, to fall back upon,” Lucius encouraged, hoping to guide Fudge into assisting him. Cornelius leaned forward eagerly, prompting Lucius to continue.

“It regards my ward, Altair. As you know, we have been having some trouble finalising our magical adoption. It seems there has been a cover-up of some kind, and a deal was struck between Bagnold and Dumbledore to have the boy moved to a Muggle orphanage. Having accessed his mother’s will, this act directly opposes the terms.”

“D-Dumbledore?!” Fudge exclaimed, nervously. “What did he have to do with it? Do you have proof?” He asked.

Lucius had known on some level, that Fudge tended to defer to Dumbledore for advice on a lot of political related things, whilst at the same time envying and discounting the man.

“Yes, Cornelius. I was looking into the birth and registration record of Altair. As you can see here, an order was passed by Bagnold and Dumbledore to have the boy moved. As I’ve discovered through Ms Walwesh of the DMCHW, this was an illegal move as there is not documented evidence of a custody case. I believe this was one of the things that Bagnold and Dumbledore smothered, for what reason, I do not yet know. Of course, it would help if I had further access to the archives. . .” Lucius said, hoping to convert Fudge to be on his side against Dumbledore and give him authorisation.

“This is very serious, Lucius!” Fudge exclaimed. “This could be damning to them! Bagnold would have no choice but to resign if you’re right. Children are to be protected, even with B-Black in Azkaban, if they had no right to move him, then they had no right. No right at all!” Fudge repeated, sounding more excited than anything else.

“Atrocious, is it not? To think someone so esteemed would interfere in a child welfare case. . . However, I need more evidence, Cornelius. Then we can use it to drive Bagnold from the office and secure you the win,” Lucius deliberated.

“Which files do you need? Of course, I’ll sign off on them! You should have come to me sooner, my friend. If I had known. . .”

“Admittedly, I did not yet have all the facts myself up until this morning. I require access to anything related to Altair Black, his mother or his father. Particularly, Sirius’ case file is absent from the public archive, so I’m presuming the transcript is in the lockdown. It may prove useful for Altair’s case.”

“Of course, friend. I shall give you whatever pass you need, just please don’t raise awareness to the fact,” Cornelius offered, withdrawing a pass from his desk and some papers to sign off on. “I will say it is for personal research, yes? Of course, if you do find evidence of a plot. . .”

Once the papers were signed and Lucius was handed a pass, he stalked through the halls of the Ministry with a smirk on his face. _Ah, how good it is to have connections_.

 

* * *

 

In the archives, Lucius delved deeper into his research using the pass he had received. He discovered the missing trial transcripts for Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Barty Crouch Jr, but could not find those for Sirius and Rosier. Rosier, he knew, had been presumed dead since the end of the war, so perhaps there was no case to be found. Sirius, however; this concerned him greatly, and he was not sure how to proceed. If it turned out that Sirius had not received a trial, that would be the biggest discovery of the century, and certainly enough to throw Bagnold out of office.

However, in his own interests would bringing Sirius to court be worthwhile? If on some account the Ministry decided to free the man due to their error, Altair could be taken away from the Malfoys. If it turned out the man was indeed guilty of his crimes as assumed, it might just end up causing a lot of grief and stress for them all. Whilst Sirius may have been one of the Dark Lord’s followers, he was still reckless and a traitor to family and friends, and the time in Azkaban would have damaged his mind.

Changing course, he went after the edict that had been signed by Dumbledore and Bagnold. Finding more detail in the files that were in the restricted section, it revealed that Dumbledore and Bagnold had not only relocated Altair without a custody hearing. Harry Potter had also been sent to an undisclosed location upon Bagnold’s immediate recommendation on that fateful night in 1981. In Potter’s file, Dumbledore was listed as magical guardian by proxy, as his godfather was imprisoned, which intrigued Lucius greatly.

Lucius gritted his teeth. If it turned out Dumbledore was Altair’s magical guardian too it would cause a lot of trouble. Lucius had to decide how he wanted to play this discovery. He could either contact the papers and try to slander Dumbledore and Bagnold through the media, or he could take them to court and try to repeal their orders and edicts regarding the children.

Still, he had enough proof that whatever had transpired to place Altair in the monstrosity of the Muggle world was an illegal move, rendering it void.

 

* * *

 

April the 9th, 1990

After many months of meddling with the media and Ministry officials, Minister Bagnold revealed her plans to retire. This came, not just from her age, but from the pressure that Lucius and Fudge had been placing upon her cabinet to reveal their corruption. They had slandered the government officials in the media, showing how rushed the trials were after the war, bringing to light the heartless way Crouch had sent his only son to Azkaban. They raised awareness of the many people who were still accounted for, hinting widely at the corruption within the government. This resulted in Bagnold having limited choices, she could resign, retire, or run for the position again in a world which was disheartened with her choices. Unfortunately, what Lucius had found was not significant enough for the lady to be indicted, and he did not much fancy pursuing that avenue anyway, as it may reveal too much. Still, the slating that he, Fudge, and some journalists had presented against Bagnold had been relatively successful, and they had managed to bring down Dumbledore a few notches too.

Fudge’s campaign was a roaring success, with the endorsement of the Malfoy family and other Pureblood circles, and he was appointed as Minister in early April. Thanks to Lucius casting aspersion upon Dumbledore, Cornelius had lost faith in the man and instead turned to Lucius as his main confidant. In relation to this, Cornelius appointed Lucius as Head of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, mostly to prevent Dumbledore from endangering the lives of students like they suspected he may be doing.

Finally, in May, Lucius and Narcissa were invited to court at the Ministry to plead their case as rightful guardians for Altair. It passed swiftly and smoothly, as no other candidate stepped forward to contest their petition. The person who had previously held the title of magical guardian was still mysteriously missing, however they now had no say in the matter. It was legally documented and binding now, Altair Black was under the indefinite care of the Malfoys. Lucius decided that the following years would be best spent in quiet peace with his family, allowing Altair to get acquainted to all that was expected of a Pureblood before he and Draco went off to Hogwarts.

Lucius was still secretly hunting for whoever used to hold the title of magical guardian, and had his suspicions that it was Dumbledore. He believed this tied into the lack of transcript for Sirius Black, as Dumbledore had neglected his duty as Supreme Mugwump. There was so much to do, yet Lucius would rather bide his time and lay low until he had the knowledge and resources to properly discredit Dumbledore, stripping him from his position of headmaster and dismissing him from his leadership of the Wizengamot. As for Sirius - given that the Malfoys had just finalised their guardianship - Lucius decided to hold off from confronting the courts until he was secure in his plans for the man. It would be easier when the boys were at the school, and Lucius could interrogate Dumbledore with good reason.

 

* * *

 

July the 7th, 1990

Altair’s birthday celebrations passed with as much enjoyment as they had the last year. Once the guests had left, Narcissa and Altair settled at a table in the library, the album that Altair had received for Christmas open before him. He had looked through the photos himself before, but Narcissa had not yet had the time to discuss his family history with him. Next to the album, sat a family tree.

“Our family – The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black – is one bathed in history. One of the few remaining within the Sacred 28, our heritage is one of the purest, greatly sought after in Great Britain. As you may have noticed, we have a tradition of naming our family after constellations, myself being an exception. You are named after one of the brightest stars in the sky, Altair, representative of the strength and intelligence of a bird of prey. Fitting, I assure you. Your middle name, Arcturus, I believe comes from one of our uncles, who Sirius had idolised in his youth.”

Altair was amazed by what he was being told, having known that they were named after constellations, but not knowing the meaning and symbolism.

“Why weren’t you named after a star, aunt Narcissa?” he asked.

Narcissa smiled. “My mother used to tell me it was because there were no star names that sounded pretty enough to describe my beauty.”

She opened to a page in the album, revealing a photograph of three girls and two adults with stern looks upon their faces. “Those are my parents, Druella Rosier and Cygnus Black. This one is Bellatrix, my eldest sister.” Narcissa pointed to a girl who had dark brown hair, messily arranged in wild curls around her face. Her chin was jutting upwards as she looked out from the photo, and there was a sharp look within her eyes. “She. . . is also in Azkaban, with Sirius. So, I understand how you feel, the conflicting feelings of having a loved family member that the rest of the world regards as evil, ” She explained, sadly.

Altair was surprised to learn that Narcissa’s sister was in prison, and wondered what she was in there for. He decided not to ask though, realising it would be rude and upsetting. He pointed to the other girl instead, who stood in between Bellatrix and the beautiful Narcissa. “Who is that one? Is she your sister too?”

Narcissa’s lips curved downwards in distaste and her nose scrunched up as if she had smelt something foul. “Unfortunately, yes. She was the middle sister, who made some. . . questionable choices.” She glanced at Altair, contemplating telling the boy. “She decided to reject our family values, and ran off with a distasteful boy not long after graduating from Hogwarts. I have not had contact with her in years.”

Altair frowned. “What family values?” he asked, hoping he was not overstepping.

Sighing, Narcissa regarded the boy. “I am sure you’ve been able to tell that we. . . dislike Muggles? This stems from years of belief that they are a danger to our society. Coming in here and refusing to follow our traditions, mixing their fil- their genes, with ours. Tainting the purity of our families. My family, too, believed this. Andromeda, well – she ran off with the wrong kind. That was the last straw.”

Altair was horrified. Did the wizarding world really see Muggles that poorly? He was aware of the witch hunting and trials, but he could not comprehend this theory of differences in blood purity. In fact, looking at the family tree drawing, he felt slightly sickened to see how they bred with each other to keep the lines ‘pure’. It was quite well known in the Muggle world that this could cause complications at birth, so it was frowned upon. Maybe the wizarding world was just really outdated in its views?

“I know this may come as a bit of a shock to you, Altair. You have to understand our mindset, however. Magic is something that needs to be protected, and having an outside, unknown being infiltrate it – why, we could end up losing our magic!” Naricssa reasoned.

Altair silently disagreed. From what he knew about genes, the more variation outside of the blood line, the better. He decided not to say anything though, knowing that his words would likely be wasted. Still, he was saddened by her prejudice. Although the Muggle world had not been entirely kind to him, he knew there were good people out there.

After that revelation, Altair stayed rather subdued during their family history. He noted the photos of his father, however Narcissa slipped up and described him as having been a ‘blood-traitor’ at one point in his life. She said he redeemed himself by marrying Efora, his mother. Altair, personally, was not sure what to make of it all. He was struggling to form a personification of his father in his head, as all the things he heard about the man were varied. ‘Murderer’, ‘traitor’, ‘dark’, ‘blood-traitor’, ‘redeemable’, ‘not that bad’. Too many antonyms occurred when people discussed him, and he could not tell if the Malfoys idolised him or despised him. It was almost as if they were proud that he had killed a bunch of Muggles and ended up in prison, showing that he followed their belief-system.

The whole meeting left a sour taste in his mouth, and he decided it was a topic he would rather not discuss with the Malfoys again, wishing to do his own research on the subject. He did not want it to ruin his image of the Malfoys. Perhaps they were just ignorant of the topic, not truly understanding about Muggles. He knew they would not listen to his reasoning at this age, however, but vowed to make a detailed theory on it in the future, when he had more knowledge from Hogwarts.

The rest of summer passed in a blur, including lots of visits from their friends and teachers. The boys tutoring was going well, preparing them for their beginning at Hogwarts the following year. They had access to practice wands now, and spent much of their time messing around practising grade 1 spells under supervision of their tutor. Altair and Draco spent much time in the library, reading about Hogwarts and classes, and Altair resumed his lessons with Narcissa, catching up on his etiquette and pureblood customs, whilst evading the topic of blood purity. Before they knew it, it was nearing the end of the year as the weather started changing, and all were eager for what 1991 would bring.


	7. Meetings, Malkins & Misunderstandings

**Chapter 7 - Meetings, Malkins & Misunderstandings**

June the 15th, 1991

Lucius was glad that he had kept quiet about the fact that Sirius’ trial transcript still had not appeared, and his conclusion that the man had not received a trial. Fudge had been Minister for just over a year now, and it had been vital that the man appear stable in the face of the public, any outrage may have tipped the balance. Although Lucius had curtailed Fudge’s habit of turning to Dumbledore for advice, the man was still a bumbling idiot most of the time. He was useful when needed, of course, and Lucius had instrumented many changes to half-breed laws, fully supported by Fudge.

Lucius knew, however, that he would have to start making progress on the matter soon. It would not do to allow the Ministry to keep things such as this hidden, no matter how convenient it may be for him. It would be easier when the boys started Hogwarts this September; he could keep track on Dumbledore’s interactions with Altair. It was helpful that he discovered Dumbledore’s movement of the Potter boy, as this could well be the key to uncovering whatever brainless plot Dumbledore was working on. All Lucius knew for certain, regarding Altair, was that Dumbledore had overstepped the allowances of his position by diverting the courts and misplacing the boy into the care of Muggle scum.

It was nearing midsummer, and the Malfoy family had just returned from a week-long trip to the south of France. Lucius was catching up on paperwork, Narcissa was attending to some matter of the house elves, and the boys were playing with their friends outside.

“Not long till we go to Hogwarts now!” Blaise cheered, prodding the grass with a stick.

Draco, Altair, Blaise, Theodore and Pansy were sat underneath a tree in the manor gardens, relaxing in the shade keeping them safe from the burning rays of the sun.

“Blaise, it’s at least a month. We haven’t even had our letters yet! Father says it’s improper and premature to be over-excited before even witnessing the letter and finding the correct books,” Draco explained. “One has to know what to expect, after all. It would be no good to cast aspersions and then end up a foolish Gryffindor from not doing enough research!” He laughed.

Altair rolled his eyes. “You’re almost like a Quick-Quotes Quill with how often you recite what uncle Lucius says, Draco. Tone it down a bit, for the love of Merlin.”

Draco plucked a bunch of grass and chucked it Altair’s face, sending the boy spluttering, hands flapping at his mouth to remove the grass.

Pansy sighed. “Stop that! You’re like a bunch of brutes. Draco is right, though, the letter is the most important thing. After all, how else would we know what to buy when we finally go shopping?” She gasped. “Ohhh, I just cannot wait to get new robes and everything!”

“It’s a shame that we have to get them from Madam Malkin’s,” Blaise drawled. “Mother says that it’s because they have to make it ‘fair’ for all the poor people.”

Theo snorted. “Why, what robes would you choose if you went, Blaise? Something sparkly and fabulous to outshine the rest of us dull masses?”

Blaise flipped his hair and glared at the boy disdainfully. “Sparkly? Absolutely not! Fabulous. . . well, who says I need any particular style of robes to look like that?”

“I think that was Theo’s point, Blaise.” Altair said. “It’s only fair, otherwise you would get people turning up in outrageously expensive outfits whilst others have to wear the same thing every day.”

“Eewww, who would ever have to do that!? There’s magic for a reason! Gross.” Pansy exclaimed, sticking her tongue out.

Draco laughed. “Poor people, Pansy!” he snorted.

Altair rolled his eyes, staying quiet. Sometimes his friends seemed to forget that he had not always been raised with a life of luxury like they had. He tried to forget it a lot too, wanting to be as extravagant as the Malfoys were, but he just could not pull it off the same way they did.

“Which house do you reckon you will be in, Theo?” Altair asked instead, knowing already that the others were destined for Slytherin. Theodore was a quietly intelligent boy most of the time, however.

“Ohh, I don’t know. Most likely Slytherin, as my family were. I’m guessing you want me to be in Ravenclaw with you, hmm?” He smiled at Altair.

“Pffft, Altair has plenty of Slytherin traits! He’s definitely ambitious – even if it is mostly always about some boring ‘knowledge’ thing,” Draco confessed to the others. “Not to mention, his Metamorphmagus abilities make him a fine snake.”

At this, Altair transformed his head into that of a snake, poking his forked tongue out and doing a poor imitation of the creature. “Hissssssssss, hiss hiss.” It sounded more like a human with a very severe lisp than anything else, which made the children burst into uproarious laughter.

“Oh, that’d go down well, Altair!” Blaise chortled. “Maybe that will come in handy if somehow they try to place you in Gryffindor! They wouldn’t want such a sssslimy sssnake in their mists.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of me being in Gryffindor, to be honest,” Altair said, his face returning to his usual features. “From what I’ve heard, they tend to just run headfirst into everything, guessing their way through school tests and exams. Not for me, nope.” He declared, popping the ‘p’.

Pansy and Theodore exchanged a look. “Yep, definitely a Ravenclaw!” they chorused.

“Did you hear? The Boy-Who-Lived is going to be in our year group at school,” Blaise whispered, leaning forward in glee.

Altair felt his stomach drop. He had not learnt much about the boy and the events of the time, as Lucius and Narcissa remained mostly tight-lipped on the subject. Draco had told him snippets, and the rest he found in the books he read. His father had betrayed the Boy-Who-Lived’s parents to the Dark Lord, resulting in their deaths, and killed a group of Muggles and his old friend in a show of dark magic. Whilst Altair knew it was not his own fault, he still felt guilty for the actions of his father. He suffered the shame of his familial name every time someone stumbled over it – stuttering 'B-Black?!' - in that same fearful tone of voice.

“Oooh, I wonder what he’s like!” Pansy said. “I bet he’s going to be in Gryiffindor, such a shame. . .” Pansy pouted speculatively.

“Father said that it would have taken someone of great power to defeat the Dark Lord, so the boy must be strong. He might be a worthy ally, if he doesn’t end up in the Lion’s Den.” Draco suggested.

Altair groaned. “I love that you discount someone just because they’re from a certain house before we’ve even _been_ to Hogwarts or met anyone from the house,” he chided Draco. Although he was used to it by now, it still stung a little to know how prejudiced Draco was sometimes.

Draco huffed. “Well it’s hardly like he’d want to be friends with a Slytherin if he does end up in Gryffindor, is it? Forgive me for being cautious.”

“Come on guys, it’s the Boy-Who-Lived!” Theodore enunciated. “Even if he was a Slytherin. . . well, our parents weren’t exactly _innocent_ , were they?” he whispered.

“Mine was!” Blaise snorted, grinning.

Altair frowned, wondering how they could all speak so lightly of this, and their parents' alleged affiliations. They were lucky, he supposed, that their parents had been proven innocent, even if Theo was claiming the opposite. Altair had been unaware of much of the politics in his life, and coming here, finding that his father was one of the most dangerous people of the time - it did not sit right with him, and made him feel uneasy whenever people discussed the topic.

Draco, too, looked despondent. “Yeah, you’re right. . . I doubt he’ll want to be friends with any of us.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Draco! You never know! It depends how he’s been raised, right? We just have to show him what we have to offer!” Pansy said, trying to brighten the mood.

 

* * *

 

 July, 1991

The owls appeared in perfect formation, gliding in through the open window of the breakfast room, over the table and dropping the letters on the table in front of the boy. Both Draco and Altair grabbed their letters with a triumphant shout of “Yes!”

Altair reverently traced the letters on the front of the envelope:

_Mr A. Black_

_The Silver Room – Heir Wing_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire  
_

Flipping the letter over, he stroked the purple Hogwarts coat of arms which depicted the letter H encircled by an eagle, a snake, a badger, and a lion. He looked over at Draco, finding the boy grinning at him. With a nod to each other, they ripped into their letters.

_Dear Mr Black,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on the 1 st of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

The boys whooped out a cheer, flicking through the parchment and looking at their equipment list. Narcissa smiled at them proudly. “I’ll send the owls away with your acceptance letters.”

“Muuum, can we go to Diagon today?!” Draco begged as she stood.

“Not today, Dragon. Perhaps sometime during the week, I think your father has the day off on Wednesday,” Narcissa bargained. “Oh, don’t look so dejected!” she sighed at the boy’s pouts.

In the morning of the last day of July, Lucius and Narcissa took the boys through the Floo to the upper end of Diagon Alley, near Gringotts. Making a quick visit to the bank to withdraw some funds, they set off into the alley to gather school supplies. After gathering their books and potions ingredients, Lucius left the group to get fitted in Madam Malkin’s, having some business to attend to in Knockturn Alley. Once the boys were within the shop, Narcissa left them to set up their appointment with the wandmaker, Ollivander.

The dumpy witch approached them with a smile. “Hello, boys! A fitting for Hogwarts, I presume? If you just hop up onto these footstools, my assistant and I will tend to you.”

There were four stools in the back of the shop, Draco and Altair were the only ones in there for a fitting. The woman levitated some plain black robes over them and began pinning them, a tape measurer hovering in the air.

Halfway through being prodded and poked, the bell above the door chimed, signalling someone entering the shop. Madam Malkin left to greet the new customer, leaving her assistant behind measuring Draco and Altair.

They could hear the muffled sounds of whoever the witch was talking to, and a few moments later Madam Malkin returned, a nervous looking waif of a boy in tow. “Up on the stool with you now, dear, there’s two here being fitted by my assistant now.”

The boy hopped up on the stool next to Altair, his hair a mess and dressed in ghastly over-sized clothes. He had a kind of tape keeping his large oval glasses intact, and bright green eyes observed Altair and Draco anxiously.

Draco peered around Altair to observe the boy. “Hullo,” he drawled. “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” the boy answered, his voice quiet.

“I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, and this is my cousin Altair. Mother is up the street looking at wands for us, and father is elsewhere looking for books,” he explained, evidently digging for an introduction to the boy.

“Hello,” the boy greeted, but did not say his own name.

Draco, growing impatient, decided to change the topic. “We should go look at racing brooms after this, Altair – it’s most unfair that we can’t take our own, don’t you think?” he asked.

Altair sighed. “I don’t know if I’d say it’s ‘unfair’, Draco. The school have brooms of their own, don’t they? _Anyway_ , we can’t try out for Quidditch until second year anyway.”

Draco huffed and glanced around at the wobbly looking boy. “Play Quidditch at all?” he asked.

The boy looked confused by the term, and Altair had a curious thought that he may be a Muggleborn, which he did not share with the oblivious Draco.

“No,” the boy said.

“We do – I hope to try out for the house team when we’re allowed, it would be a shame to let my talent go to waste. You’re fairly good, too, I suppose,” he smirked dismissively at Altair, hoping to irk him.

Altair could never quite fathom Draco’s obnoxious boasting when he wanted to make new friends. It was rather off-putting, so he decided to apologise to the boy. “Sorry about him, he gets carried away sometimes. You don’t even know which house you’ll be in yet, Draco,” he chided, to a tutting Draco.

“ _Oh please_ , we’ve had this conversation before. I’m almost certain I’ll go into Slytherin.” He looked at the boy. “Any idea which house you’ll be in yet?”

“Er- no.” The confusion on his face was distressing to Altair.

“There’s four houses, with different strengths. The house that Draco is so sure he’ll go into – Slytherin – has a basis in cunning and ambition. Gryffindor values courage and nerve. Ravenclaw values intelligence and wit, and Hufflepuff embraces hard work and loyalty,” Altair explained, watching the boy’s face light up in intrigue. “All houses have their values-.“

“Slytherin’s the best though,” Draco interrupted, to Altair’s dirty look. “And thank you so much for your textbook style quotation.”

“Better than your constant imitations of uncle Lucius, _Dragon,_ ” Altair quipped, smirking.

The boy let out a soft gasp of laughter, before wincing in pain as a pin poked him in the wrong way. The ice had been broken now, however, and the conversation flowed more freely.

“Say, I never did catch your name,” Draco probed.

“Oh. Err – it’s Harry.” The boy stammered.

“Harry who?” Draco asked, “What’s your family name?” he enquired.

“Draco! Don’t be so rude!” Altair snapped, having the feeling that this boy was a Muggle-born and knowing that Draco would only antagonise him if he was right.

Harry bit his lip. “It’s okay, it’s Po-”

“I say, look at that man!” Draco cried, interrupting Harry’s response, much to the annoyance of Altair. He pointed towards a lumbering giant of a man, holding up two ice creams and grinning into the window.

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry said, smiling at the man. “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” said Draco with distaste. “I’ve heard of him, he’s some sort of ser-“

“He’s the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, Draco,” Altair burst in.

Draco looked offended. “Yes but – I mean, doesn’t he live in a _hut_? And father said he performs magic illegally, causing a lot of problems.”

Altair sighed, about to retort, but to his surprise it was Harry that piped up.

“I think he’s brilliant,” he said, staring frostily at Draco.

Draco became defensive. “ _Do_ you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?” he demanded.

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco, tone it down,” Altair hissed at him quietly.

“They’re dead,” Harry said, bluntly. He was frowning awkwardly, seeming conflicted.

Altair was horrified. “I’m sorry,” he said, Draco repeating his sentiments a moment later.

The air was still awkward when Draco decided to dig his hole deeper. “Your parents – they were _our_ kind, weren’t they?” he asked.

“They were a witch and a wizard, if that’s what you mean.” Harry was beginning to seem rather annoyed now.

Draco opened his mouth to make some other obnoxious comment, but Altair got in there first. “Sorry about him, again. He was only curious, you – I mean, I guess I thought you were a Muggle-born?” Altair ended asking a question.

“I didn’t even know I was a wizard until last night,” Harry quietly admitted to Altair and Draco’s shock.

“B-But how didn’t you know?” Draco asked, receiving a sharp glare from Altair. “Sorry – I’m just nosy,” he admitted.

Harry sighed, obviously having had enough of the unpleasant interrogation from Draco. “It’s a long story,” he muttered, effectively ending the conversation.

Harry was evidently having a fitting for fewer robes than they were, as he was done before them. As the boy hopped off his stool, Altair said goodbye to him.

“It was nice meeting you, Harry. Welcome to the wizarding world and I hope we see you at Hogwarts.”

Harry let out a shy smile. “It was nice meeting you, too, Altair.” He glanced hesitantly towards Draco before nodding slightly towards him. “And you, Draco. Bu-bye.”

“We never did find out his last name,” Draco muttered, petulantly.

“I can’t say I blame him, Draco. ‘Were your dead parents our kind?’ _Really_ , Draco?” he asked furiously.

Draco cringed. “Ughhh, I messed up I know. I was nervous okay! And what if he turned out to be a _Mudblood_? I could hardly stay friends with him then, could I?”

“Muggle-born, Draco. It’s not that hard. I don’t see what difference it makes, really,” Altair stated.

Draco looked scandalised. “Don’t let father hear you say that! Come on, Altair, you’ve been in our world for two years now. You know we’re better than the- Ouch! Watch where you’re placing the pins!” he snapped at Malkin’s assistant.

“The fact you even had to ask about his blood status just shows that you can tell no difference between Muggle-borns and Purebloods anyway!” Altair exclaimed.

“You thought he was a Mud- _Muggle_ - _born_ too though! Those clothes he was wearing were ruddy awful!”

Altair sighed. “I can’t be bothered having this argument, Draco. Just please, try to be less of a judgemental moron next time we meet someone new? It’s awfully embarrassing. Thanks.”

Draco was in a sulky mood for the rest of the day, but thankfully he did not complain to Narcissa or Lucius about Altair’s open-minded views. They received their wands from the peculiar man that was Ollivander. Draco’s wand was 10”, Hawthorn, with unicorn hair as a core. Altair’s wand was 12¼”, Fir, with a Phoenix feather as a core. To finish their afternoon, they met their friends at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, where they indulged in oversized sugary delights.

The rest of the summer passed at an alarming speed, the weeks of August being spent studying their course books and practising spells and potions with their tutor and Severus.

 

* * *

 

September, 1991

Before they knew it, it was the morning of September the 1st and the boys, the adults and the house-elves were in a flurry, finishing the last of the packing. They Floo’d to Platform 9¾, Lucius believing the portal in the station being uncivilised and dangerously close to Muggles. They arrived relatively early, only a few families were littered around the platform, in front of the gleaming ruby train that read ‘The Hogwarts Express’. The Malfoys spent a few minutes having an intimate goodbye, as the platform filled around them. Lucius levitated their trunks into an empty compartment near the end of the train, putting them on the racks above the seats. Bidding one final goodbye as the horn of the train blew, Lucius hopped off the train and waved goodbye to them with Narcissa as the train began its long journey to the Scottish Highlands.

Their friends quickly found them, and they settled into the compartment together, Altair curled up by the window with a textbook whilst the others chattered excitedly about the upcoming year.

Not long after the treat lady with the trolley had left their compartment, Crabbe and Goyle found them. They grunted as they lumbered into the compartment, looking around and not seeing anywhere to sit.

“Did you hear? The Boy-Who-Lived is on the train somewhere,” Goyle muttered.

“Is he really? What compartment is he in, do you know?” Draco asked.

Crabbe shrugged. “Nah, some ginger twins walked by us shouting it out.”

Draco glanced mischievously at Altair. “Let’s go find him!” He pulled a reluctant Altair up, giving the boy barely any time to put his book down on the seat.

They wandered throughout the train, Crabbe and Goyle in tow, looking for the elusive boy. Draco took to poking his head round each compartment asking after Harry Potter.

They finally approached a compartment with a ginger-haired boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose, talking animatedly to the boy they had seen in Madam Malkin’s. Draco shared a look with Altair. “Hey, didn’t that boy say his name was Harry? You don’t think. . .” he trailed off.

If the Harry they had met in Diagon Alley was indeed the Boy-Who-Lived, Altair knew that Draco would be filled with embarrassment over the way he had acted. Lucius had suggested, vaguely, that the Potter boy might be valuable company. Altair had disregarded it, as he preferred to make friends by their own merits. Draco, however, took his father’s words as gospel a lot of the time.

Knocking on the glass door and entering before being allowed, Draco stepped forward. “Hello again, Harry,” he stated imperiously.

“Oh! Hi,” Harry said, glancing at Altair and Draco, before his eyes darted nervously between Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco waved a dismissive hand, introducing the boys looming over his shoulder.

Draco glanced at Ron, his eyes assessing. “Who are you, then?” he asked.

“Er – I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.” The ginger boy introduced himself, shooting a bemused look at Harry. “And you are. . .”

“Weasley, eh?” Draco questioned, eyeing the boys clearly second-hand robes. Thankfully, he made no comment about the state of his clothes, and instead introduced them. “I’m Draco Malfoy, and this is my cousin, Altair Black.”

“B-Black?! and Malfoy?” Ron questioned, wide-eyed, glancing at Harry again. “You know these people, Harry?”

Altair cringed, feeling awkward over the boy’s reaction to his name. Harry however, didn’t make any visible notice of recognising Altair’s surname, much to his relief.

“Yeah, we met in Madam Malkins,” Harry explained. He glanced up at them. “Do you, er. . . wanna sit with us?”

Draco turned to Crabbe and Goyle, ordering them to go back and tell the others that he and Altair would be sitting here for a while.

Altair approached to sit next to the redhead, who cringed away from him slightly. Frowning, Altair switched and sat down next to Harry before Draco could.

Draco cleared his throat to break the stubborn silence. “So, Harry. How was your summer? Any clue which house you want to be in yet?” he asked as an attempt at polite conversation.

“Oh – yeah, it was. . . alright, thanks. What about you?” Harry replied. “I don’t know, yet. . .”

“Oh, it was great, wasn’t it Altair? We practised loads of magic to prepare!” Draco stated proudly. “Do you still not know about the houses, Harry? . . . What about you, Weasley?”

“You practiced magic outside of school? Lucky! Mum would never let us do that, I thought it was illegal. Oh, I hope I’ll be in Gryffindor, it’s the best house – all my brothers have been in there. I wouldn’t mind Ravenclaw, I guess, but I’m not clever enough for that. Anything but Slytherin would be fine, though.”

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” Draco demanded. “My whole family has been in Slytherin, and I’d like to go there.”

Ron looked panicked, unsure of how to reply.

Harry answered. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I heard that Vol – sorry, You-Know-Who was in Slytherin.”

Ron nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Loads of _dark wizards_ go in that house.”

“What a load of rubbish,” Altair finally joined the conversation. “Even if he was in that house – which nobody knows for certain – you can’t base the actions of one person on a whole house,” Altair stated. Really, he was not just applying that theory to the houses. It had always upset him greatly that people tended to formulate opinions of him on his father’s actions.

Draco nodded. “Exactly, Altair! Slytherin has many good traits, it’s all about self-preservation, resourcefulness and ambition. What’s wrong with any of those traits?”

Harry looked apologetic. “I dunno. . . nothing, I suppose. My parents were in Gryffindor, so I’d like to go there, I guess,” He admitted.

“Yeah, my whole family was in Gryffindor, I hope I don’t get sorted elsewhere. . .” Ron said.

Sensing the conversation might get dark again, Draco changed topic. “Do either of you follow Quidditch? I’ve been trying to get Altair invested in it, but he doesn’t like it as much as me.”

“ _Of course_ I follow Quidditch! I support the Chudley Cannons,” Ron exclaimed.

“Why on earth would you follow them? They haven’t had a good game in years! I support the Tootshill Tornadoes, they’ve been set to win for ages now,” Draco said.

Harry looked lost in the conversation, evidently not knowing much about Quidditch. Sensing that Weasley and Draco were going to be in for a long debate, Altair drew the shy boy into a different conversation. “Do you have any subjects that you’re most looking forward to?” Altair asked.

Harry looked worried. “Oh – er. Charms, I think and potions a little. I haven’t had much time to read though, is that a requirement?” he asked.

Altair let out a soft laugh. “I mean, it is worth reading the course books, yeah, but it’s not like you have to memorise them. I would say to read up on potions before you have the class though, Professor Snape likes people to be prepared.”

“You know the professor?” Harry questioned. “I’ve only met Hagrid so far, and he’s not a teacher.”

“Yeah, he’s Draco’s godfather and we’ve had some lessons with him,” Altair frowned. “Didn’t you say you found out you were a wizard over the summer? Would the school not have sent a teacher to explain things to you?”

Harry looked surprised. “No, it was. . . well it was a bit difficult for me to get my letter, so it ended up with Hagrid banging on our door and taking me to Diagon Alley. I guess they thought that I’d know about magic already. . . which I didn’t.”

“Huh. I’m surprised they sent Hagrid as a first choice. . . he’s not exactly, well, what I would choose as a first contact for an introduction to the magical world.”

“Hagrid is great though, really. He explained so much to me and he was nice. He made my cousin have a pig’s tail,” Harry laughed.

Altair raised an eyebrow. “He transfigured your cousin?” he asked in outrage. “Is your cousin a Muggle?”

“Er- yeah. Hagrid didn’t mean any harm though. Dudley is really awful sometimes – he had it coming.”

“Fair enough,” Altair drawled slowly.

Silence settled between them again until Harry piped up. “Um, what house do you reckon you’ll be in?”

“Everyone says I’ll be in Ravenclaw, but I don’t know. Maybe Slytherin.”

“I can see the Ravenclaw, you seem really smart,” Harry smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. “I guess Slytherin isn’t too bad, really. . . it’s just that I heard such bad things. I hope I didn’t offend anyone.”

“After all those things Draco said to you in the shop? I don’t think there’s a chance of that,” Altair said, and he and Harry grinned at each other before being dragged back into the conversation with Ron and Draco.

After a few hours of light chatter and card-playing, Draco and Altair returned to their compartment to get changed and sat with their friends for the rest of the journey, watching the darkening countryside whizz by. A frizzy-haired, large toothed girl poked her head around their compartment door at one point, asking about a frog. Draco was rather rude and dismissive to her and she left in a huff.

Finally, the train began to slow down as it approached Hogsmeade and they changed into their uniform. “Luggage is to be left on the train for collection, please make your way out of the train slowly and mind the gap,” an announcer called out as the train slowed to a near stop.

The towering figure of Hagrid could be seen above the masses of bodies, he was holding a lamp in front of his face and calling for the first years to assemble around them, as they would be approaching the castle by boat.

Altair, Draco, Theo and Blaise piled into a small boat, clinging on for their lives as they were propelled across the Black Lake. The castle was revealed as they made their way across the water, and it was awe-inspiring in its many towers and bridges. They disembarked and walked up the river bank, up some stone stairs, shivering until they reached the giant oak doors. Hagrid knocked three times on the grand doors, and hustled the excited first years into the hall when the doors swung inwards.


	8. Sorting, Stagnating & Studying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helloo.  
> Long time no see. I'm really sorry about the lack of updates - just know that this story ISN'T ABANDONED.  
> I kind of lost access to word, which is what I use to write it, then things got really busy at work. The last few months have been a bit hectic with some family and work things.  
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter, this one should bring us to a point where I can move the story along a bit, getting first year out of the way hopefully within the next 2 chapters.

**Chapter 8 - Sorting, Stagnating, Studying**

 

They were waiting in a foyer by the great hall. Hagrid had left them under the care of the severe woman, Minerva McGonagall, who spoke in a thick Scottish accent. The children were all huddled together, excitedly chattering about the sorting and how it would happen.

“Fred said it hurts a lot, and George said that we might have to wrestle a troll as a test!” Ron Weasley, the ginger boy that they met on the train, said.

At the boy’s words, Draco let out a slight snort, but anxiously glanced around himself as if waiting for a troll to pop out behind them. Ron was standing near them with Harry and the bushy-haired girl from the train. Harry looked nervous and the girl looked sceptical.

“I doubt they’d make us do that,” Altair countered. “We’re only first years, after all.”

Ron frowned at him. “I dunno. . . I think I can tell when Fred and George are playing a trick on me.”

A shriek went out across the huddled crowd as some ghosts floated through the room. Altair was shocked by the amount of them; and the fact that they spoke! Thankfully they were saved from heart attacks by Professor McGonagall making a return.

Once they had formed an orderly line, the doors leading into the great hall opened and the shivering students were put on display in front of the older years of students. The hall broke out into polite applause as they entered, and their line stopped in between the two middle tables, in front of the podium at the front. Altair looked around him, taking in the different colours of badges that sat along each table, and then looked up at the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the night sky. He heard the bushy-haired girl pompously explaining the enchantment to some other students.

A long table was set out at the top of the room, Altair recognised Professor Snape, so he assumed it was the staff table. There with an elderly man in garish robes sat in the middle, smiling benignly. Beneath the staff table sat a worn out, tattered looking hat, on top of a precariously rickety wooden stool. Just when Altair was about to question what all _that_ was about, the seams in the hats brim ripped, and it burst into a lengthy song which Altair missed most of in his shock of witnessing a talking hat:

_. . ._

_. . . . ._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I’m a thinking hat!_

Altair disliked the idea of having something poking around in his head, although he was thankful that there was not some kind of duel or test.

“When I call your name, you are to sit on the stool and place the hat on your head,” Professor McGonagall explained, unrolling a lengthy piece of parchment.

To Altair’s surprise, he was the second to be called up to the stool, after ‘Abbot, Hannah!’ had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall did not stumble over his name, instead calling it in a clear voice: “Black, Altair!”

He approached the stool carefully, trying to present a picture of calm to the rest of the hall. Inside, his mind was in chaos. _What if my thoughts are so jumbled that it can’t decide? What if I end up in Gryffindor after all, and Draco and the others hate me?_

Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the stool, closing his eyes as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. The hall was silent and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart before he heard a gruff voice whispering in his ear.

“Well, you’re nothing like any of the other Blacks I’ve sorted before,” said the voice.

_What does that mean?_

“Oh, it’s of no matter – you have a good mind in there, you know. There’s a work-driven force within you, and although you’re loyal, I don’t think you know yet to whom. Hmm, plenty of cunning and ambition, but I see you have your doubts around that place. As for courage-“ the soft voice was cut off at Altair’s interruption.

“Not Gryffindor,” Altair thought harshly, scrunching up his face in concentration.

The voice laughed in his head. “Not brave enough to face up to the fallout, eh? Well you’re certainly wise and rational, the main driving force for the ambition you hold appears to be understanding and knowledge. Better be. . . RAVENCLAW!” The hat declared the last word to the hall, and Altair heard a light round of applause coming from the table where the people with blue logos on their uniforms sat.

Altair nervously walked towards them, and an older boy stood up to shake his hand.

“Hello there! I’m Robert Hilliard, a prefect. Welcome to Ravenclaw!”

“Thank you,” Altair replied politely, taking a seat on the end of the table that had free space.

"Bones, Susan!" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then after that a "Boot, Terry!" came over and sat next to Altair at the Ravenclaw table. Altair did not pay much mind to the sorting, only listening out for people sorted into Ravenclaw – up until McGonagall’s list reached “Malfoy, Draco!”.

He watched as his cousin swaggered arrogantly up to the stool, smirking at Altair as he went. The hat had barely been lowered over Draco’s head, before it cried out with “SLYTHERIN!”. Altair could tell that Draco was ecstatic as he hopped off the stool, beaming towards Altair and swaggering towards the Slytherin table with his head held high.

Altair listened with half an ear, until the hall broke out into excited whispers at McGonagall’s shout of “Potter, Harry!”.

He watched as Harry Potter, who was indeed the boy he and Draco had met in Diagon Alley and then sat with on the train, walked shakily towards the hat. The hat covered his whole head, and then everything was silent. Whispers broke out across the hall when Harry still had not been sorted after a few minutes.

Finally, the hat bellowed “GRYFFINDOR!” and a relieved looking Harry walked dreamily to the Gryffindor table.

After Blaise had been sorted into Slytherin, headmaster Dumbledore had announced some nonsense which signalled for an enchanting array of food to appear on the lengthy house tables. Altair served himself, reviewing the sorting in his mind. He was sad, in a way, that he was the only one to be sorted into Ravenclaw out of his friendship group and was nervous about making new friends. There were eight first years that had been sorted into Ravenclaw, other than Altair. Five girls: Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Isobel Macdougal, Padma Patil and Sue Li. Other than Altair, there were three boys: Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot. Deciding he just wanted to eat quietly and observe his new housemates, he did not make much effort to engage his peers in conversation.

After the feast was over, the Ravenclaw prefect, Hilliard, led Altair and the other first years up to the tower where the Ravenclaw common room and dormitories were.

 

* * *

 

 

“Our common room entrance, as you can see, is blocked by this bronze eagle,” Hilliard explained, pointing to the knocker. “Instead of giving a password to enter, we can get in through answering riddles.”

The bronze eagle moved, and its mouth opened to sound out a question: “five and two are we, we follow each other, together we are weak. What are we?”

Hilliard thought for a second, smiling around at the group. “Can anyone get the answer?” he asked.

Five and two make seven, Altair thought, following each other? Being weak?

“. . . The seven days of the week?” Altair asked, more as a question than an answer. The other first years looked slightly befuddled, glancing at Altair disbelievingly as he dared to answer.

The eagle went still and the door opened inwards. Hilliard turned around to grin at Altair. “Well done! That was quite an obscure one.”

Hilliard ushered the first years through the door, and Altair stopped still to marvel at the beauty of the room. The circular room was as tall as it was wide, with bookcases curving around the walls filled to the brim with books, likely many with topics Altair could not begin to imagine with his limited knowledge of the magical world. Blue, bronze and brown colours permeated the room, with warm sofas and armchairs scattered throughout the room. A large fireplace brought a soft warmth to the room, and several students were quietly sat at tables, chatting to friends or reading individually. Stairs led up above the bookcases to where he presumed the dormitories would be, and at the bottom of the stairs lay a white marble statue of a lady. Large, arched windows revealed Hogwarts’ grounds, which were cloaked in the darkness of the night, though he knew the view must be spectacular in the daylight.

“Welcome to your home for the next seven years! The first year boy’s dormitory is in the first door up the stairs, and the girl’s dormitory is in the second door. Each dormitory has a shared bathroom,” Hilliard explained. “Here is a copy of a map of Hogwarts, so you don’t get lost on your way to classes. Breakfast is served in the Great Hall between seven and nine, and classes start at around nine-thirty.”

The first years burst out with questions all at once. “When do we get our time-tables?”. . . “Where’s the library?” . . . “What time’s lunch?” 

“I can answer those for you, children! One at a time, please!” A squeaky voice said.

Looking around themselves, the first years noticed a diminutive man with white hair and a beard, dressed in olive-green robes. He was carrying a pile of pamphlets, which he set aside to introduce himself.

“Greetings, first years! I am Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house,” Flitwick announced, beaming at the students. “I’m here to guide you throughout your years here, and will happily answer any concerns or questions that you may have. I teach Charms, and my office is located at the back of the classroom, however I do try to make an appearance here at least twice a week for check-ups with my students. I will be available every day this week.”

“Now, you will get your time-tables tomorrow morning at breakfast, served from seven o’clock until nine o’clock, so don’t be late! Ask a prefect or an older student if you get lost. The library is located on the first floor, directly up the stairs from the Great Hall. Lunch begins at twelve o’clock and ends at two o’clock, as the class times vary each day. Dinner begins at seven o’clock” Flitwick answered the earlier questions.

The tiny professor removed his wand from his sleeve and floated the pamphlets he had set aside to each of the first years. “In those pamphlets is information which may answer a lot of your questions. As it’s quite late now, I recommend that our prefects show you to your dormitories and you can get acquainted with one another. I will be in the common room for another hour, however, should any of you have anything pressing which you’d like to discuss with me.” With that, the small man bowed to and bid good night, moving away to hop up onto one of the desks residing by a large window.

Hilliard turned and smiled at the first years. “It’s nice to see that we have an even amount of first years this year! Four boys and four girls. Boys, if you please follow me, I will show you the way to your bedroom. Girls, please follow my fellow prefect – Ophelia Rushden – to your respective room.” At his words, a tall girl with glasses and a soft smile ushered the girls away from the boys.

The boys were herded upstairs to the first door on the right, which was the first year male dormitory. They entered the room, which was circular with a large window on one side, by the bathroom, allowing the moonlight to filter through. At their entrance, the torches on the walls came to life, illuminating the four poster beds, decorated with deep blue hanging curtains on bronze frames. The boys' trunks were at the end of each bed, although Hilliard expressed that if they wanted to swap beds, they could arrange that between themselves.

To the right of each bed there was a small desk, which satisfied Altair as he was sure he would sometimes much rather retreat to the bedroom to do work in peace rather than in the busy common room. In the times he was not in the library, of course.

Altair walked towards his bed, which was by the window and removed his pajamas and bathing products, noticing that each boy was doing the same. All of them were tired from their long journey and excitement of finally being in Hogwarts. It was only once they were all changed and comfortable, sitting on their beds that shy introductions were made.

Michael Corner cleared his throat. “Well… congratulations to us all being sorted into the house of the wise, eh?”

“Hear, hear!” chimed Anthony Goldstein. “I was torn between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but I think my excitement to finally have access to such a grand library won the battle!” he laughed, smiling at the boys.

“I can’t wait to find out what our schedule is, I hope we have charms as soon as possible. Professor Flitwick is a master in his subject, and a duelling champion. Hogwarts really is the best school for charms.” Terry Boot stated excitedly.

“And to think, the Boy-Who-Lived is in our year group! I was hoping to be in the same house as him, but I suppose it makes sense for someone so brave to go into Gryffindor. I wonder if the hat took so long with him because he knows so much about magic,” Corner enthused conspiratorially.

Altair snorted, gaining a frown from the boy. “Got something to say, Black?” he asked.

“Er, sorry… I just don’t think it’s right to assume anything about Harry Potter when you haven’t actually spoken to him yourself,” Altair tried to explain, feeling judged yet not wanting to alert the boys to the fact that he knew Potter had only found out his wizardry over the summer.

“He was in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and he brought the end of You-Know-Who, so I think it’s fair to 'assume' that he must be powerful,” Boot mentioned quietly.

“Right… I didn’t mean to offend anyone, I just don’t like gossip all that much,” Altair defended himself, not wanting to upset his housemates on his first day.

“I suppose you wouldn’t, what with your father being in the very same book,” Corner stated nastily, making Altair grimace.

_Seems like they’ve already formed opinions on me, then._

“Come now, that’s not fair,” Goldstein expressed, to Altair’s surprise. Frowning at Corner, he stated: “we’re housemates now, let’s try and get along… we’ll be stuck together for several years, after all.”

Terry Boot nodded along, before yawning. “Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m tired. Going to rest up so I can muddle my way to the Great Hall tomorrow. I want to memorise the castle as much as I can; it wouldn’t do to get lost on the first day.” He bid goodnight to his roommates and drew his curtains shut.

“You’re right, Goldstein, and I’m sorry, Black. I just like to know as much as possible, and I guess it can come across a bit harsh sometimes,” Corner explained, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Good night, guys.”

Once Corner had withdrew behind his curtains, Goldstein smiled at Altair. “I suppose we should do the same. I don’t know that much about the politics in the magical world, as I was mostly raised by my father – he’s a muggle, by the way – and only saw my mother every few months.”

“It’s okay, thank you for sticking up for me. It’s all too easy to believe everything we read in books, but I think it’s just unfair to judge people you haven’t met yet. I didn’t even _know_ my father… Anyway, goodnight, Goldstein,” Altair smiled sleepily at the kind boy.

“Please, call me Anthony. Goodnight.”

Drawing his curtains, Altair relaxed against the plush pillows, closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep faster than expected, his mind flowing with dreams about his upcoming year at Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the tired but eager quartet made their way through the sprawling halls to the Great Hall. Sitting on the Ravenclaw table, they were vibrating with excitement. Flitwick asked them to remain for a while after the breakfast fare was consumed, handing out their schedules and going over any questions they may have. Altair noticed that most of their classes were shared with Hufflepuff, such as Potions, Charms, Astronomy and History of Magic. They had Herbology with the Slytherins, whilst Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration were shared with all houses.

Altair briefly sulked over not sharing Potions with Slytherin, as he believed Draco would have been the best partner for him due to their shared tutoring from Professor Snape. However, he supposed he could catch up with Draco frequently through his other shared classes.

Their first class of the day was Charms, as Terry Boot hoped. On their way out of the Great Hall, Altair spotted Draco making his way towards him, with Crabbe and Goyle looming behind him like bodyguards. Altair had never been particularly fond of the two, finding them a bit lacking in intelligence and not much for conversation beyond boyish grunts.

Draco smirked at Altair as he approached. “Hello my Raven cousin, I hope you’re settling into your house well. I’ve written to mother and father already, I expect we’ll get a box of treats from them soon,” he drawled, gazing unenthusiastically at Altair’s companions.

Altair rolled his eyes. “I’ll send them a letter myself later. You don’t think they’ll be disappointed we’re not in the same house, do you? I have charms now, what’s your first class?”

Draco snorted. “As if, Altair. It was rather obvious you’d end up in Ravenclaw with that nerdy brain of yours. We have Potions today, with the _Gryffindors_ , curse our fate,” he sneered, before grinning at Altair. “Meet me after lunch? We can head to Defence Against the Dark Arts together.”

_Ah, how quickly Draco has decided to abhor the Gryffindors,_ Altair thought wryly. He wondered if this would sour the tentative friendship they had tried to expand to Harry and Ron.

After agreeing to meet Draco outside the Great Hall later, they split in the foyer, the Slytherins heading down into the Dungeons for Potions whilst the group of Ravenclaws headed upstairs for Charms.

 

* * *

 

The diminutive professor greeted his new Ravenclaws enthusiastically, standing on a mound of books on the desk that seemed too large for him. He encouraged them to split into groups for their first class, mixed with the Hufflepuffs. Altair ended up sat with his fellow Ravenclaws Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil and a shy Hufflepuff girl, Hannah Abbot.

They were to practise the levitation charm together, discussing theory behind it and encourage each other with their attempts. Together, they all chanted “Wingardium Leviosa!” with a swish and flick of their wands. None of them managed to fully levitate their feathers on their first go, however Altair and Patil’s feathers twitched upwards. After a few more frustrating attempts, Altair managed to get his the highest and maintained it for the longest, much to Flitwick’s praise. He explained how to enunciate the spell patiently, guiding Hannah, who had not managed much so far. By the end of the class, all the students were pleased with their progress. Altair quickly saw that Charms was going to be one of his favourite classes, Flitwick made the class enjoyable and never chastised anyone if they were struggling.

They had History of Magic next, a class that Altair had been looking forward to as he loved history and was eager to know more about the magical world. Michael Corner and Terry boot remained chatting animatedly to the Hufflepuffs they were grouped with from Charms, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Altair quickly realised that he would not enjoy History of Magic at all, after the monotonous drone of the ghost Professor Binns grated on his ears. He knew that he would not learn much from the Professor, although he was one of the few that managed to remain awake for the whole two-hour lecture. Altair resolved to go to the library before dinner to play catch up on the topic as much as he could.

With the first classes concluded, the students made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. A welcome break, as many of them had been bored witless in History of Magic. He noticed Draco at the Slytherin table smirking and laughing with Pansy about something. Following their line of sight, he witnessed Harry and Ron looking sour.

_Well, there’s something else to figure out. I hope Draco hasn’t done something_ …

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Draco hailed down Altair, dragging him away from the other Ravenclaws to walk with him to Defence ahead of them. He seemed in good spirits, still smirking.

“I take it your first classes went well?” Altair enquired, curious.

Draco snorted. “Oh, absolutely. Potions class was fantastic! Uncle Sev-, sorry, _Professor Snape_ , is an amazing teacher. He so obviously hates Potter, it’s rather laughable really. Sev was ripping into him, asking so many questions. Potter really doesn’t know anything! It was embarrassing to watch – he doesn’t even know where to find a _bezoar_! Fancy him being the supposed _saviour of the Wizarding World_!” Draco mocked viciously. “That already puts Gryffindor behind in the House Points chart,” he laughed.

Altair frowned. “How is that funny? You know that Harry only recently found out about magic, Draco. And Professor Snape shouldn’t have been so harsh, we are only first years after all…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it, Altair! You don’t have to defend him just because of-“ At Altair’s pointed glare, Draco re-evaluated before continuing. “I mean, some of the questions were hard, yeah, but most of the information was in the book – admittedly not at the _front_ …” Draco trailed off, looking uncertain.

“And how would _you_ feel being bombarded by questions that are from further along in the course on your first day, hm?” Altair questioned, elbowing Draco in the ribs. “You know, just because you’re in Slytherin, it doesn’t mean you have to suddenly be toxic, right?”

Draco frowned, pouting, “I’m not! And see, you already agree with the rest of the school that Slytherin are toxic,” he whined, pulling away from Altair. Altair gazed at him for a moment, before deciding that Draco looked suitably chastised.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to torment Draco just a little more though, and once they were in the classroom for defence, he dragged the boy towards the table where Harry sat with Ron.

Ron Weasley looked up as they sat down, looking put out over who they were.

“Hello, Harry, Weasley,” Altair greeted, politely. “Hope you don’t mind us sitting with you? I’ve heard that Professor Quirrell smells rather strongly of garlic, and your table is the furthest from the front, so…”

That seemed to break the tension, as Draco and Ron snorted. Harry let out a soft laugh, seeming glad for the comment.

Once the rest of the students piled into the classroom, Professor Quirrell entered the room, twitching occasionally. Once the man set into a bumbling, stuttering lecture, Altair let out a sigh, gazing around the room. What was wrong with the teachers here? So far, Professor Flitwick was the only one who seemed efficient. Ron and Draco looked bored, Draco was rolling up scraps of parchment and flicking them in the direction of the frizzy-haired girl who sat a few desks away. Altair grabbed his arm and stopped him, to which Draco pouted. _Honestly_.

Harry had his head down and was rubbing his forehead as if in pain. Altair grabbed some spare parchment and scrawled a note;

_Are you okay?_

**_Fine. Just a bit of a headache, dunno why_**.

_Maybe it’s the overwhelming stench of garlic._

Altair looked at the boy, exchanging a grin with him as they made eye contact.

The rest of the class passed in the same manner, Altair flipped through his text book idly as the Professor stumbled through his speech. Ron appeared to be asleep, Draco was tapping his quill and Harry was doodling on parchment.

Later, after classes finished, Altair made his way to the Library. It was there, as he reviewed the messy notes from his classes, he decided that it might be worth making a study group. He could not understand why a ghost was still in employment, as everyone knew that they tended to just stagnate if they did not turn malevolent. As for Quirrell, well, the rumour was that the Defence position was cursed, so perhaps that’s why he was such a nervous wreck. Still, it was only their first day, and already Altair felt a little disappointed by the content that the supposed ‘best Wizarding School’ offered thus far. He penned a letter to his aunt, stating as much, and decided to speak with his housemates and Draco about a study group later.

 

* * *

  

His Ravenclaw companions seemed eager for the study group; Anthony deemed it a fantastic idea, agreeing with Altair that they especially needed time to research more about History and Defence. They all agreed to attend, even Michael Corner, who was not especially fond of Altair.

Altair finally got to tell his idea to Draco in Herbology, taught by the plump Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff. He and Draco had not had much chance to talk over the first week, given that they were in separate classes most of the time and Draco seemed eager to establish his place within the Slytherin hierarchy. Himself at the top, of course. That meant that Draco was mostly roaming the grounds with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, making himself appear unapproachable to outsiders. It was easier to talk to his cousin when he was casually socialising with Blaise and Pansy.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted and showed no interest in the study group, which did not surprise Altair in the slightest. Theo was thankful for the idea, immediately asking when the first session was. Draco tentatively agreed, though he said that if any Hufflepuffs or Gyffindors annoyed him he would withdraw. Blaise considered himself above such a group, though agreed to attend if the teaching became any more dire. Pansy said she would come if Draco did.

Altair was glad that Professor Sprout seemed to be a good teacher, having a strong knowledge of her subject and she was very patient with all the students, even when Draco was whinging about how cruel it was for her to bring small samples of Devil's Snare, which his hand got stuck in when he accidentally dropped something in there. Naturally, he panicked and ranted about how terrible it all was, though he quickly composed himself when Altair taunted him for not knowing that it was averse to light.

Transfiguration was amazing, Professor McGonagall, whilst stern, was a precise teacher when it came to explaining the intent behind transfiguring objects. There was a lot of theory work behind the subject, much to the Gryffindors consternation. Altair struck a slight camaraderie with Hermione Granger; the bushy-haired know-it-all from Gryffindor. He did not quite understand why she was in Gryffindor as opposed to Ravenclaw, as she was clearly an intellectual. The girl did annoy him to some degree though, with her constant pandering to the professors and textbook recitations. However, he felt a stroke of sympathy for the girl as it seemed she was rather alienated from the rest of Gryffindor due to her studious nature.

Altair invited Granger to his study group, which she seemed eager for. He extended the invitation to Ron and Harry as well, Ron immediately said no, saying that he preferred to relax in his spare time rather than study more. Hermione huffed at this, muttering something under her breath, which clearly offended him. Ron backtracked and said he might attend… occasionally.

Harry agreed, in turn asking if he could invite Neville Longbottom, a shy Gryffindor who seemed to antagonise the professors in every subject with his bumbling mistakes. Altair reluctantly consented, agreeing that the boy would do to get a better grasp of the topics, however was hesitant due to the boys cringeworthy errors.

“How could you invite all of those Gryffindors? Especially Longbottom, he’s a darn fool, much more of a Hufflepuff. You haven’t been in potions with him; he’s a cauldron melter!” Draco ranted, when Altair showed him the list of who would be attending their first session which would be in mid-October.

Altair rolled his eyes. “Draco, how many times have I told you to stop being so judgemental of others? For Merlin’s sake. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to! Although, imagine how disappointed uncle Lucius would be if he saw that you were falling behind in class?”

Draco glared at Altair. “I won’t fall behind, Altair. I’ll come, but like I said… I’m out, if any of those buffoons annoy me. And believe me, father will hear about any of their foolishness!”

Altair wondered how long it would take before Draco stopped bringing up Lucius in every topic. Altair had corresponded with his aunt and uncle more frequently once he realised that neither were disappointed in his sorting. They were proud, although he often day-dreamed of how different their reactions would have been if he was sorted into Gryffindor. The Malfoys had their standards deeply ingrained and were stubborn to change, as proven through Draco’s constant stigmatising ways.

Altair just hoped that the study group would work to form alliances rather than increase Draco’s animosity towards Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Altair was hoping to form a proper friendship with Harry, at least. Not purely because of his second-hand guilt over his father's actions, but because he quite liked the boy, who was different than everyone expected. He was quiet to a degree, interested in learning about the magical world, and accepting of everyone; putting up with Draco was a key indicator of such. Altair was fast to realise that Harry might not know about Altair's family history. Namely, the traitor Sirius Black. He resolved to tell him one day, when he knew the boy a bit better. For now, he just wanted to do well in school, and get through the first semester. At least they would have several study sessions before the short Halloween break, which was already becoming eagerly anticipated by the students.


	9. Flights, Foolish Fights & Fleeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to stop estimating when I'm to be done with a certain book/arc... as always I get carried away.  
> This chapter is a bit melodramatic, I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> Last time:  
> Altair just hoped that the study group would work to form alliances rather than increase Draco’s animosity towards Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Altair was hoping to form a proper friendship with Harry, at least. Not purely because of his second-hand guilt over his father's actions, but because he quite liked the boy, who was different than everyone expected. He was quiet to a degree, interested in learning about the magical world, and accepting of everyone; putting up with Draco was a key indicator of such. Altair was fast to realise that Harry might not know about Altair's family history. Namely, the traitor Sirius Black. He resolved to tell him one day, when he knew the boy a bit better. For now, he just wanted to do well in school, and get through the first semester. At least they would have several study sessions before the short Halloween break, which was already becoming eagerly anticipated by the students.

**Chapter 9 - Flights, Foolish Fights & Fleeing.**

 

Altair should have known that starting a study group so early into the school year was a bad idea. Everyone was still establishing their standing within their houses, Draco especially so.

“It was one thing for you to invite Weasley and Longbottom, but to invite that Granger girl is another thing entirely, Altair! I still can’t believe you did that. She’s an annoying little teacher’s pet, and she has no knowledge of our culture, nor does she care to from what I’ve observed!” Draco whispered harshly, pacing the length of the table in their secluded spot within the gigantic library.

Altair sighed, flicking the page of the textbook he had in front of him as they waited for their schoolmates to appear for their first study session. “Draco, we don’t even know her… and maybe we could take this as a chance to educate her? You know that I didn’t have the faintest clue of our heritage before I came to live with you,” he rationalised.

Draco sniffed disdainfully. “Heritage being the key word, Alt. She is of the _wrong sort_. Father would not be pleased to hear that we were even considering talking to her. Bad enough we have to put up with Weasley, all because you want to make nice with Potter!” He scoffed, stopping to glare at Altair. “And anyway, it’s different with you; you were never meant to be in the Muggle world in the first place! You should have been with us from the beginning.”

Altair cringed, whilst pleased that Draco hadn’t referred to Granger as a ‘Mudblood’, he still had anxious thoughts of how he would have fared starting at Hogwarts had the Malfoys not rescued him. “H-have you told Uncle Lucius about it?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Of course, I’ve mentioned our study group in my most recent letter. Worry not, I did not mention who you decided to invite, without actually _consulting me_ first might I add, only that we were progressing well to bring Potter under our wing,” Draco placated pompously.

“You say that as if I’m using Harry and made this group for that purpose. It’s not like that, Draco. I just couldn’t stand even a second longer of that dreadful drone of Binns' voice without a sufficient back up plan.”

Draco snorted. “Mr Barbour was right, I think I learnt more in our tutoring sessions than I have so far with that spirit's poor attempt at teaching. Imagine dying, only to return as a ghost and then spend an eon teaching the same subject repeatedly! Ghastly,” he shuddered.

The boys shared a smile. “Will you just give it a go?” Altair asked. “I think you’re right… I might have a bit too eager in reaching out to people. I just…”

“Yeah, yeah. It just doesn’t reflect well on us, really, hanging out with that kind. I’m only here for you. Blaise has already decided he won’t come, and Pansy was only going to come if Blaise came. I expect Theo might show his face, sometimes I think he should be in ‘Claw like you. Perhaps today we could go over some basic Wizarding customs? I’m sure that would ease father’s mood if he found out who you invited to this group” Draco suggested.

Altair nodded to show agreement, although his mind was reeling in an anxious bubble. He was still scared that the Malfoys might change their mind about him, even though they have formally adopted him in all ways besides magical. To hear that Blaise and Pansy would not come purely because of the Muggleborn girl was a bit of a shock to him; he had not known that Blaise fully followed that thinking. It was a struggle for Altair to get into their mindset on the matter, having been Muggle-raised for a critical amount of time before being introduced to the magical world. He did not believe that wizards truly understood Muggles, and that they were the ones that did not care to. He was already entertaining the idea of taking Muggle Studies in third year, if his uncle permits. It would be interesting to hear the magical point of view on Muggles from others besides his biased family. 

The other Ravenclaw students turned up first, sans Michael Corner, who was reportedly spending time with the Hufflepuff Zachariah Smith, meaning he was going to miss out on the first study group session even though he agreed to come. Altair would not miss him, especially if it meant it would keep that stuck-up Hufflepuff 'heir' quiet for a bit.

“Hey Altair, Malfoy. I think this is a brilliant idea!” Anthony Goldstein grinned, his cheeks flushed from the trek through the halls.

“I agree, listening to Quirrell stutter through his class has given me a right headache!” A new voice chimed in, signalling the arrival of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The group all murmured their agreement, settling down into seats around the large table.

“We should start, we haven’t got enough time before dinner if we carry on waiting for Longbottom and Granger,” Draco bossed Altair, passing him a variety of books on Wizarding customs.

They all looked at Altair expectantly, causing a faint blush to dust his cheeks as all the attention was upon him.

“W-well. I thought, rather than going over everything in our lessons, that for our first meeting today could be about the Wizarding World as a whole, and maybe looking at a chapter in _Hogwarts: A History_?” He asked, looking around at them shyly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are we late?” A harassed Hermione Granger called out, interrupting the group. Neville Longbottom was behind her and they both looked a mess, like they had run all the way to the library.

“It’s all my f-fault, I-” Longbottom stammered, only to be cut off mid-sentence by Granger.

“Neville left his parchment in the common room and then got us lost on the way here, confusing even me!” Granger huffed, throwing herself into a seat near Weasley and getting her parchment and quills out. “So, what are we studying today? I had hoped to go over some Transfiguration homework, as I was struggling a little to get the tip of my transfigured needle pointy enough. Professor McGonagall said it was a great first attempt, but I would hate to disappoint her, so-“

“Ouch!” Altair cried out, having been elbowed in the ribs by Draco who had been growing increasingly frustrated by Granger’s rambling. Weasley was staring at the girl with a disgusted look upon his face, though that quickly cleared up when Granger looked around in embarrassment.

“Er, sorry to interrupt, Granger. As I was saying to the others before you two arrived, I thought we could go over some Wizarding customs today. I thought rather than focus on schoolwork this time, we could just educate each other on what we know of magic and Hogwarts,” Altair explained, passing her a copy of a book outlining the basic introduction to Pureblood life.

“Oh… that wasn’t at all what I was expecting,” Granger stated, frowning disappointedly.

Draco scowled. “Well if you don’t like it, you can just leave!”

Weasley snorted, causing Granger’s face to turn a violent shade of red in her shame. “N-no. I won’t leave, I want to learn more… is that _Hogwarts: A History_? I love that book!” Granger declared, changing the topic.

Altair rubbed his forehead in frustration, annoyed that they kept getting interrupted and they had not even started yet! “Right, well. If you could all turn to page 112 of that, you’ll find an explanation detailing how the Hogwarts letters are written, and the difference in how they are received by Muggleborns and Purebloods.”

Seeing that they had all done as he asked, he continued. “Everyone who has magic strong enough to attend school in this country will receive a letter when they turn 11, like us. You might have noticed that they have specific addresses on, meant to find your exact location. As the book says, this is mostly for the owl’s benefit, as they must use so many, it can get confusing I guess.”

“So, does that mean that the professors don’t see the address themselves?” Harry asked.

“Not exactly. There’s a registry for most students who are Pureblood or at least brought up in Wizarding Britain. Most Pureblood parents enrol their children in Hogwarts after they’re born, so I guess the Headmaster would at least know.” Draco explained. “The registry then prints the envelopes for the letters via a spell, essentially a strong copying charm. I think the letters themselves are signed individually though before being put into the envelopes. Father says it’s not the best system, as sometimes people forget to update their address if they move and if the letter is not accepted or denied within a certain amount of time, the letters can just keep printing repeatedly.”

Harry frowned harshly and looked down at his parchment. Altair had thought he would ask more, however the boy remained silent.

“I wasn’t registered at birth, as I’m the first witch in my family.” Hermione stated, sticking her chin up.

“Yeah I was going to talk about that next. As it says here, “Muggleborn students will first show up on a Ministry registry within the educational department when they have their first bout of accidental magic.” I think this is then transferred to the Hogwarts list when they’re nearly 11,” Altair explained.

“Yeah, my mum says that a professor will go along to explain things for Muggleborns after they get their letter, as it can be a shock,” Anthony Goldstein said.

“Yes! They sent Professor McGonagall to explain things to me, it was so exciting. My parents had thought it was a prank, you see, even though they knew that something wasn’t quite right with me…” Granger agreed. “They quickly realised it was true though, when the professor explained everything and took us to Diagon Alley.”

“Nobody came for me after the first letter, it took-” Harry began, his eyebrows scrunched up and an unreadable emotion on his face. Before he could finish his sentence, however, Draco interrupted him.

“ _Not quite right_ , you say? What do you mean by that, exactly? Magic is something to be proud of, and your parents should realise that,” Draco snapped.

Hermione glared at him. “They are proud of me! They just don’t fully understand it, but it explained a lot to them. Like my accidental magic, I guess they were glad to have an actual word to put to it.”

“Of course, they don’t understand it. They never will,” Draco scoffed. “You should probably count yourself lucky, _Granger,_ that your Muggle parents aren’t the kind that would kill you for such a thing.”

“Oi, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Terry Boot questioned, looking concerned.

“Father says that a lot of Muggles react in such a barbaric way, maybe not killing their child but definitely not allowing them to attend Hogwarts!” Draco growled. “So no, I don’t think it’s harsh.”

Hermione scowled. “My parents would _never_ do that to me. _Never_. They love me, no matter what. I don’t think you should be so quick to judge, I doubt you’ve even met a Muggle!”

“And I don’t bloody well want to!” Draco muttered under his breath, quiet enough so that only Altair could hear him. The tips of his ears had turned pink in his anger.

“All the Purebloods I know have been raised with stories about the witch trials and murders throughout centuries, and Draco is right, a lot of Muggles fear and envy those with magic. Do you have siblings, Granger? Imagine how they would feel if it turned out that it was only you with magic.” Theodore Nott backed up Draco in a calm manner.

“The witch trials were years ago, people don’t react that way nowadays!” Hermione huffed. “I’m an only child, but that’s besides the point! You can’t speak for how MOST Muggle parents will react to the news when you haven’t even met one.” She groused, glaring at Draco.

Altair withheld a groan. To think that his first “study group” had devolved into arguments like this, so soon too. Looking around at his year mates, he noticed that nobody looked particularly enthused to be there. Weasley was scowling and folding paper, and Harry was also frowning and looking down. Altair himself was not entirely sure which side he should be on. Surely reactions varied family by family? Had it not been for the Malfoys, he wondered if a teacher would have even come to visit him at the orphanage to explain everything to him. It took them so long to find him, after all, that he could not help but feel he would have been entirely forgotten had they not bothered. He shuddered at the thought of never even coming to Hogwarts, never knowing he was a Wizard. If Muggle families abandoned their children because of Magic… well, that was a horrible thought, too.

He decided to change the subject before the group devolved into more petty squabbles.

“We’re getting off track. I just thought it could be interesting to hear how the letters are sent out. Let’s move on though, shall we? If you turn to the other book -  _A Cursory Glance and Pureblood Customs -_ we can find out more about Hogwarts uniform, robes and the Hogwarts express,” Altair diverted.

 

* * *

  

After the eventful first meeting, the next few weeks of classes at Hogwarts passed by blur of activity. Gradually becoming acquainted to his environment, Altair felt that he was settling in, and started to view Hogwarts as somewhat of a second home. Whilst nothing could compare to the luxury of Malfoy Manor, Hogwarts had an aura around it that filled him with warmth. Magic tingled in the air, students were flushed with happiness every time they achieved something in class. Altair quickly picked up on the layout of the sprawling halls, only having gotten lost a couple of times. The library was quickly becoming a place where he could spend many hours, settled in a corner reading or doing homework. He was pleased that he was not the only student to enjoy the solace that the library provided, many students of all ages congregated there, alone or in groups to study and relax.

Their study groups had not been progressing quite as well as Altair had anticipated. He was not entirely sure of what exactly to expect, but it always seemed to end in Draco arguing with someone, especially Granger. They had argued so badly last time that they had been thrown out of the library by Madame Pince, and Altair doubted that Granger would return. Draco was gleeful, of course, pleased to be rid of the ‘Mudblood know-it-all’. He also butted heads with Weasley quite frequently, Altair did not think that either boy noticed that they shared a common symptom of being annoyed at Granger. ‘Blood Traitor’ he’d mutter about Weasley to Altair once the sessions were over.

Was Sirius Black not once deemed a ‘Blood Traitor’? Did that make Altair one? Or had he been redeemed because Aunt Narcissa and Lucius had adopted him? These thoughts would spin around in his head every time he heard Draco call people derogatory names, which was becoming quite the frequent occurrence.

Needless to say, things were getting a little tense, with Draco constantly belittling people and trying to establish his reputation in Slytherin. Altair had been holding his tongue for the most part, as Draco had been graceful in not telling Uncle Lucius who exactly they were spending time with, and he in turn had not wanted to upset Draco.

 

* * *

 

A class that everyone had been anticipating was the first flying class of the year, in which first year students would be trained by Madam Hooch in how to ride a broom. They were all eager for the respite from their classes, and even Altair was looking forward to a break from the tense feeling he was having. Some, like Draco, were excited about the class, however they considered themselves above being taught. Others, he noted, such as Neville Longbottom were nervous wrecks. The class was to be held with all the students for the first session, and then separated into bi-weekly groups based on skill level. Altair and his fellow year mates traipsed out of the front doors and across the grounds to the Quidditch pitch.

Madam Hooch was a striking woman, with wild hair and bright, sharp, owl-like eyes. She had a whistle hanging about her neck and stood with her back ramrod straight.

“Line up opposite each other and do not touch your brooms until I say so,” Hooch instructed.

Everyone was a jittering bundle of nerves, and Altair felt rather nervous himself, even though he had flown a few times in the past. He had Draco on his right and Harry to his left, and opposite them were: Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Longbottom looked positively green with his anxiety.

“Are you okay, Longbottom?” Altair questioned softly, watching the boy fiddle with some sort of red orb. Though he had not spoken to Longbottom much, he felt a bit sorry for the boy as he seemed to struggle with just about everything.

“Y-yeah. I’m f-fine. Just haven’t flown much before. Gran says that I might b-break my n-neck,” he stuttered, before flinching and shaking his head, tucking the orb in his pocket.

Draco snorted, earning himself a glare from Altair, Harry and Ron. Blaise just smiled serenely, pretending he was interested in a thread on his flying gear.

“Got something to say, Malfoy?” Weasley questioned, red in the face.

Draco feigned innocence. “Absolutely not, Weasel-y,” he drawled, purposefully mangling Weasley’s name. This had become quite a favourite past-time of Draco’s whenever he wanted to quickly anger the boy.

As expected, red bloomed on Weasley’s cheeks, creeping down his neck and making him resemble a tomato. Luckily, before any drama could ensue, Madam Hooch interrupted them with a blow of her whistle.

“Now, students. There will be no messing around in my class, do you hear me? Too many students fall accident to silly mistakes. It is quite simple if you have patience and awareness of your surroundings,” Hooch explained, pacing down the length of the students gathered.

“Place your dominant hand out above the broom and say the command UP!” she instructed, observing them.

A chorus of “UP!” went throughout the group. Harry was the only one to get it on his first try, much to the envy of Draco. Altair and Draco got it on their second attempt. Ron finally managed it, gripping the broom victoriously.

“UP! UP!... UP!” Longbottom was shouting, his face flushed in exertion. “Why won’t it just… UP!”

“Longbottom, try picturing the broom actually being in your hand as you command it, and it should bend to your will,” Hooch advised.

Longbottom was the last student to get their broom ready, Harry gave him a thumbs up when the embarrassed boy finally managed it.

“Put one leg over the broom so you’re sitting on the broom. On the blow of my whistle, bend your legs and push off firmly from the ground. Hover in the air for ten seconds then return to the ground, do NOT fly around,” Madame Hooch commanded.

Her whistle blew, and all the students kicked off successfully, hovering in the air. They stayed that way for a few seconds before Longbottom’s broom seemed to go haywire, raising higher and higher in the air.

“Come down here at ONCE!” Madam Hooch shouted at Longbottom.

“I c-can’t! It won’t s-stop!” Longbottom hiccupped anxiously, the broom now rising and falling at a rapid speed. It started waving him around and he looked like he was clinging on for dear life, his eyes firmly shut.

“He looks like he might vomit,” Draco commented, seeming smug.

“Shut up, Draco,” Altair snapped, watching the broom throw Longbottom around violently.

“S-shouldn’t someone help him?” Harry questioned, cringing as he watched haywire broom flail Longbottom around.

The broom continued to rise, before giving a violent shake, twisting around and making Longbottom lose his purchase. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he tumbled through the air, screaming. He landed in a sickening CRUNCH, and Madame Hooch rushed over to him, white in the face.

“You’re alright there lad, come on, can you stand?” she enquired. Longbottom’s face was white with pain, and he was blubbering. He was lucky that he had not hit his head, otherwise he would not even be conscious. His arm looked a mess, and he was clutching it to his chest whilst he whimpered.

“I am going to escort Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing. You are all to remain ON THE GROUND until I return. Anyone that fails to do so will serve detention with Mr Filch, is that understood?” With one last hawkish glare at the students, Madam Hooch helped Longbottom away, supporting him as he limped and hobbled.

 

* * *

 

Everyone was silent for a moment in their shock. Susan Bones looked like she might vomit. They moved away from where he had fallen, splitting off into smaller groups to chat until their trainer returned.

Altair noticed that Harry looked nervous, staring at one of the brooms on the floor as if it might bite him. “Don’t worry, things like that don’t usually happen. It was probably just a bit faulty from being so old and overused,” Altair consoled him.

“Yeah I know… poor Neville. Things like that just seem to happen to him, you know? Melting cauldrons, exploding feathers, getting stuck in steps. Just this morning he was saying he’d forgotten something. Even with our study group he’s still struggling, I feel bad for him,” Harry empathised, glancing away.

Altair was about to respond, however, they were interrupted by Draco drawling loudly to the infernal Crabbe and Goyle.

“I say, what on earth is this thing? Maybe this explains why he fell off his broom, messing around with silly objects like this,” Draco laughed, chucking the red orb that Neville had dropped back and forth with his hands.

“Hey, that’s Neville’s Remembrall. Give that back!” Harry stated, his voice just edging on sounding angry. He stepped around Altair to glare at Draco, holding his arm out.

Draco blinked at Harry, glancing fleetingly at Altair, before smirking mischievously and gripping the Remembrall tighter in his grip. “It’s obviously not serving the lump much use, is it? He forgets where to put his brain half the time. Why don’t we race for it, Potter? A bit of a friendly competition?” He grinned nastily, stepping over to his broom and mounting it.

“Draco…” Altair started, wanting to berate the boy, however he found himself at a loss over Draco’s stupidity.

“Well, Potter? What do you say? Come and get it.” Draco ignored Altair, instead choosing to taunt Harry even more.

“Just ignore him, Harry. You’ll get us all into trouble,” Granger instructed, glaring at them all.

Harry looked wild, his cheeks were red and his eyes were sharp, they darted to the front door of the castle briefly before he rushed towards his broom and jumped on, shooting up in the air to meet Draco.

“Give. It. Back,” Harry commanded, glaring at the Malfoy heir, who was throwing the ball in random directions before catching it.

Draco grinned triumphantly. “Make me!” he laughed, before flying off in a random direction.

“Get down here!” “Go get him, Harry!” “W-what if a teacher sees?” The students were shouting between themselves, watching the two.

After a bit of back and forth, Draco seemed to grow bored, holding out the Remembrall towards Harry. Just as Harry reached out to grab it from him, Draco sneered and threw it high up, in the direction of one of the towers. It would surely break if it landed.

Harry sped off, spending Draco spinning as he brushed past him at full speed. Draco was smiling smugly as he descended. Glancing up, they all watched as Harry went full throttle after the ball, nearly bashing into the tower window, before falling into a deep dive to capture the ball. They all gasped as he caught it right before it hit the ground, expertly pulling out of the dive and rolling off his broom, holding the Remembrall high in the air. He was grinning brightly as he clutched the orb.

“MR POTTER! COME WITH ME THIS INSTANT!” An angry Scottish brogue broke the silence. Professor McGonagall was glaring at the boy, her arms crossed. She looked furious. “All of you are to get changed and head inside, immediately,” she stated, and then marched Harry away, into the castle.

“Well, that just happened,” Zachariah Smith commented obtusely.

“He is _so_ getting expelled,” Draco snorted, smiling smugly as they all moved amass to the changing rooms to get ready to return to the castle.

 

* * *

 

Altair was seething. “Draco, you absolute imbecile! Do you have ANY idea how stupid that was? You could have killed yourself, and Harry, all because you’re such a pompous idiot. I can’t believe you,” he ranted, spinning around to face the boy.

Draco went red in the face. “Shut up. It was only a bit of fun, how was I to know that Professor McGonagall was going to come charging out? Potter’s the idiot here, not me,” he said, as Crabbe and Goyle came to stand ominously behind his shoulder.

“You’ve really been pushing my patience lately, Draco. You realise you could have got expelled too, had she walked out any time sooner? How do you think Uncle Lucius would respond to his heir acting so foolishly and getting expelled over such a stupid thing? I thought we’d been getting along with our sessions?” Altair questioned, stepping towards his cousin and trying to ignore the imposing figures of the lumbering giants.

Draco huffed. “As if father would let that happen to me, don’t try and threaten me, Altair. There are many things I could tell him, such as how you’re acting like a bloody Hufflepuff! Besides, Potter gets so much special treatment anyway. Like I said, it was only a bit of fun. Stop having such a stick up your arse and maybe you’ll learn the meaning of the word, dear cousin mine.”

“Yeah, right. A ‘bit of fun’ is stealing an injured student’s possession, then throwing it around to try and break it, whilst tormenting someone? You’re just turning into a bully, Draco. I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid. Potter and his friends have been nothing but tolerant towards us, putting up with all your ill manners, and this is how you reward their patience?” he snarled, stalking past the boys and into the changing room.

Draco swaggered in after him, his head held high. “I never asked to be hanging around with the Lions anyway. It was you that forced me to, playing pretend good boy just because you feel bad for them. Potter was smiling before he got caught, wasn’t he? And he was good on his broom, even I can admit that. There was no way he would have hurt himself,” he said, trying to rationalise his behaviour.

“I didn’t _force_ anyone to do anything, Draco. I don’t see what’s wrong with inter-house friendships. It’s you that keeps trying to stick to what you think is “traditional” – such as being horrible to the Gryffindors – when really, none of it is your personality anyway. Everything you’re doing this year is: “well, father said this, well, father did that”,” Altair imitated Draco’s voice, nasal and whiny, his hair lightening into the platinum blonde to mirror that of his cousin. “Pushing me and everyone else around because you think that’s what you’re meant to do. Frankly, keep me out of it. At this point, I’m so angry with you that I don’t want to be around you when you’re being such a twit.”

Without waiting for Draco’s response, Altair threw on his cloak and stalked out of the changing rooms, rushing into the castle to get some peace and quiet.

 

* * *

 

It took a few days for things to calm down. Draco made a few snide comments here and there about how Altair should be more appreciative of his family’s kindness, which only served to sour their friendship even more. Seeing Longbottom walking around again soothed Altair’s anger a little, and he felt a little foolish for reacting so harshly. He just did not like seeing Draco act that way, and their study group sessions had been halted because of the incident. Though he might have been overdramatic, he was just getting so tired of Draco baiting those he was starting to consider as friends.

Draco found him in the library one afternoon, and approached the table that Altair was sat at doing a potions assignment.

“I’m sorry,” Draco stated, after standing there for a minute staring at Altair.

Altair kept his head down, continuing to write.

“Altair. I mean it, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been… well, a right berk lately, okay? I know! And I DO have my own personality, you know… you don’t get what Slytherin politics are like. At the moment I must rely on Father to get my status up, otherwise we’ll just get bossed around those in sixth year, and they’re a nasty, useless bunch. I know that might not really mean anything. I’ll even apologise to Potter at our next study session, if that will make you happy. I… I miss you. I don’t want us to fall out over something so stupid,” he expressed, gazing at Altair intently as the dark-haired boy looked up.

Altair sighed. “I feel stupid, Draco. I just really wanted to make friends and things were going so well first of all, but then your stupid Slytherin politics got in the way and yeah… you acted petty as hell, trying to make enemies.” He saw Draco open his mouth to argue but held up a hand to stall him.

Sighing, he continued. “I miss you, too. It was just so, so stupid. I was worried about you. Thank you for apologising, I do hate to fight with you. I love you, you’re my cousin and first friend. I just wish you could see how you act sometimes, it’s downright awkward when I’m there wanting to make friends and keep peace and you act imbecilic, putting your foot in your mouth,” Altair conceded.

Draco let out a sigh of relief, coming around the table to hug Altair. “I know, I just can’t help it sometimes. I’ll try to be better, okay? I just wish we were in the same house, then maybe you would understand where I’m coming from.”

Altair snorted. “I don’t. I can only imagine that Crabbe and Goyle snore beyond belief. I just think house rivalry is petty, and it only seems to be Gryffindor and Slytherin that continue it. I can’t help but think that you’d hate me if I was placed in Gryffindor – my Father was placed there, you know that.”

“I wouldn’t hate you, Altair. I swear, I could never. I guess I just grew up hearing so many stories about Hogwarts, about Potter, about how to act, how to be a Pureblood. You haven’t had that, not in the same way as me. I’m scared of disappointing everyone, especially Father.”

Altair didn’t fully believe that Draco would have treated him the same if he had been sorted into Gryffindor. “I’ll call a study group meeting tomorrow. If you don’t feel up to apologising to Potter, I could do it in your place if you want?” If it would help keep the peace, Altair was not averse to using his Metamorphmagus abilities.

Draco snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I did act like an idiot, I just can’t help but taunt him. Blaise dared to tell me that I was just jealous that you were hanging out with so many other people, which of course isn’t true! It’s just that naturally, I’m better company. I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow.” His lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, before he nodded at Altair and left the library.

 

* * *

 

Altair’s impromptu study group were meeting for their last session before going to the Halloween feast. They had not met for a while due to the whole drama with flying and Draco being a git. Thankfully, Draco and Altair had made up, and Altair sent out the message to everyone that they’d be meeting today. He was waiting with Draco and Blaise, who had finally been convinced to join, for their other group members to arrive.

“I just think it’s outrageous that Dumbledore has abolished the traditional festivities of Samhain. Trying to appease the mud-Muggle-borns, no doubt. Disgraceful really. Father says the loss of our tradition will be the end of our long-standing culture, especially with the influx of poor breeding that Dumbledore allows into the school these days. I must say I agree with father, especially with the way Dumbledore hoards away his pet oaf Hagrid. Foul half-breed.” Draco was muttering to Blaise.

Altair shot him a quelling glare. “What did we discuss just yesterday, Draco?” he questioned pointedly.

Draco looked away, flushing in embarrassment, refusing to make eye contact with his cousin.

“Come on now, Draco. Repeat after me: To-ler-ance. To-ler-ance. Tolerance. Not that hard to grasp, right? Come on,” Altair taunted. Whilst he was teasing, he had been hoping that their conversation yesterday had awoken a shred of compassion in the boy.

Draco’s cheeks turned pinker and he shot a betrayed look at Altair. “Yes, yes. Tolerance. I swear, I’ll apologise to them… if they turn up any time soon,” he mumbled, looking at a nearby clock.

The Ravenclaws appeared first, saying that they got caught up by Peeves, stumbling into the room sheepishly. Harry and Ron came bustling through the bookcases a few moments later, slightly out of breath, and Ron was muttering something to Harry quietly as they approached.

“Hi! Sorry we’re late, I got caught up doing something and Ron waited for me,” Harry explained, pushing his glasses up on his nose. His hair looked more dishevelled than usual and his tie was skewiff.

“Are Granger and Longbottom not coming?” Altair questioned politely, glancing at Weasley to distract himself from the sudden urge to straighten Harry's uniform and pat his hair flat.

“Neville is catching up with Mrs Sprout about something he missed when he was injured,” Ron stated. “Dunno where Granger is, probably somewhere else in the library learning something that she can lord over us tomorrow,” he muttered angrily, shrugging dismissively.

“Problems with the Golden Trio?” Draco enquired nosily, lips quirked up into a subtle smirk.

Ron snorted. “We’re not a trio, if anything the less time we spend with that know-it-all the better. She was such a pain in Charms earlier! ‘ _It’s Leviosa’_ ” He mocked, nasally. “Haven’t seen her all day since class. What’s _he_ doing here anyway?” Weasley asked, pointing at Draco.

Draco cleared his throat, eyes darting to Altair anxiously.

“Well, I apologised to Altair. I… owe you an apology too, Potter. I’m sorry for… taunting you into chasing me and getting you in trouble. At least you weren’t expelled, right?” Draco proffered nervously.

To the boy’s surprise, Harry grinned brightly, scratching the back of his messy hair absently.

“Quite the opposite, actually. It’s meant to be a secret, but, well, since you’re sorry… I’ve been made the new Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Had my first practice just now!” he stated shyly.

“Youngest Seeker of the century, don’t forget!” Ron expanded, his face a mixture of pride and envy before he turned to watch Draco’s reaction, radiating smugness.

Draco’s mouth flopped open and closed several times, his cheeks rosening in his incomprehension.

“B-but you… What? That’s unf- That’s outra-. I…” he spluttered before chancing a look at Altair, who was similarly shocked. “Unbelievable… C-congratulations, Potter,” Draco grumbled begrudgingly, amusing the other children.

“Congratulations, Harry.” The students of the study group chorused together, smiling at the blushing boy.

“Youngest seeker of the century? That’s quite the achievement, you know,” Altair complimented softly, smiling at Harry.

Altair could tell that Draco was brimming with envy, however he was pleased that he had managed to control his jealous outbursts this time. Some work needed to be done, but it appeared that Draco was gradually beginning to think before he spoke.

With apologies and congratulations out of the way, they moved onto reviewing Defence as the class they had today was one of the worst, with Professor Quirrell twitching every second and seeming terrified of everything he was saying.

 

* * *

 

After they finished their study session, the students made their way to the Great Hall, splitting to head to their respective house tables. Before Draco split away to the Slytherin table, he whispered to Altair. “Any other time, and I would have demanded a duel with Potter. I’m sorry, but that right there is the special treatment I was talking about. Any other student would have been expelled!”

Altair rolled his eyes, “Well, I’m proud of the way you reacted. Anyway, you can just try out for the Slytherin team next year, get in on your own merit, and prove you’re better than him.” He consoled Draco, who preened like a cat under the praise. “And the last thing you need to do is get into anymore fights, you’re lucky that Professor McGonagall didn’t punish you after the flying incident,” Altair chastised.

“As I’ve said before, cousin, such punishments are below me and therefore unlikely to ever take place!” Draco boasted, jutting his chin up. Altair stared at him incredulously for a moment before both of them burst out into hysterical laughter. They separated in good spirits, heading to their respective house tables.

The Great Hall was a marvel with its Halloween decorations, Muggle tradition or not, the elves must have gone all out with the floating pumpkins and dark candles, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and various trinkets spread across the tables. Treats were scattered throughout the table already, and students eagerly began stuffing their faces.

Halfway through the feast, Professor Quirrell came charging into the hall, white faced and panic stricken.

“TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! TROLL!” He was screaming dramatically, stumbling and tripping to where the teachers sat before halting in front of Headmaster Dumbledore and collapsing in a heap.

There was a second of silence as everyone was in shock, and then all at once a cacophony of noise as everybody started yelling and screaming their panic, jumping from their tables and rushing to leave the room.

“Silence!” Called Headmaster Dumbledore, his voice enchanted to emanate throughout the room, making everybody pause. “Everyone please remain calm. Prefects, please escort your housemates to your common rooms. Teachers, with me.”

In a flurry of motion, the prefects rounded up the students of their houses. In the grand foyer, Altair spotted Draco looking terrified, he was clutching Blaise's robes as they trailed the Slytherin Prefect.

“They expect us to go back to the dungeons?! B-but, that’s where the Troll is!” Altair was fairly certain that he heard a mild "Father will hear about this!" as the mass of students separated to head to different common rooms.

Altair looked around at the Gryffindors, who were heading the same way as the Ravenclaws. As he was glancing around, he noticed Harry and Weasley slinking off in the chaos, away from the throng of students and head down a different corridor. Curious as to where they were going during the panic, Altair ducked down behind a statue, managing to ditch the Ravenclaw prefects, and made to follow them.


	10. The Troll, The Three-Headed Dog & The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time:  
> “They expect us to go back to the dungeons?! B-but, that’s where the Troll is!” Altair was fairly certain that he heard a mild "Father will hear about this!" as the mass of students separated to head to different common rooms.
> 
> Altair looked around at the Gryffindors, who were heading the same way as the Ravenclaws. As he was glancing around, he noticed Harry and Weasley slinking off in the chaos, away from the throng of students and head down a different corridor. Curious as to where they were going during the panic, Altair ducked down behind a statue, managing to ditch the Ravenclaw prefects, and made to follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never quite meant to go through everything from the books, but it just kind of happened and now I can't stop.  
> I have changed the timeline of some events, and tried to add my own twist on things, so I hope you don't mind.  
> Please let me know any advice about how to move things along quicker, as honestly I have so much planned for the future books but I get stuck on this one a lot - half wanting to rush through it and half wanting to do every event.  
> As I said before, this is my first fic ever, I'm new to writing in such detail, and fear that it might come across as boring if I'm basically re-doing the whole book.  
> Personally, I love a long fic, the wordier the better, and I especially love do-over ones, so that might be why I'm doing it this way... I'm just grateful for any advice.
> 
> I'm going to do a poll. If anyone is interested, please comment A or B.
> 
> A - The pace is fine as it is, keep writing about the events in detail as you are  
> B - Cut things back and skip through events unless directly changing them
> 
> Thanks, enjoy reading!

**Chapter 10 - The Troll, The Three-Headed Dog & The Truth**

Altair was several feet behind Harry and Ron as they traversed the hall at a rapid rate. Due to the chaotic noises echoing from the direction they came from, the sounds of the students screaming and scrabbling to return to their respective common rooms muffled the sounds of his own footprints, and he was unable to call out to alert them to his presence.

 _What in Merlin’s name are they doing?_  he silently questioned, hastening to follow the Gryffindor boys. Although it might be wrong of him to follow in the first place, he could not help his curiosity about what they were doing in the middle of a supposed troll invading the castle.

Ron and Harry’s rapid pace slowed a fraction as they reached a deserted corridor on the second floor. Following as they swiftly entered a door to the right, Altair was bewildered to see that they had entered the girls' bathroom. Debating for a moment, Altair followed them into the bathroom against the warning bells ringing in his head.

“Sorry to intrude…?” Altair mumbled awkwardly, trailing off his question as he entered behind Harry and Ron. The Gryffindors were stood by a stall at the far end of the bathroom, Ron had his hand on the door panel and was speaking urgently.

“Granger!” Ron called out, bashing on the door frantically. “Hermione?” he asked in a softer tone when the girl did not respond.

“G-go away!” Granger muttered, and Altair could hear some quiet sniffles emanating from the stall. Evidently, the second youngest Weasley had done something to upset the girl, as he continued his pleading and apologies.

Harry turned around to face Altair after a moment, his face contorted with chagrin. His glasses were askew, and his cheeks had a flush to them after their rush through the halls.

“Altair? What are you doing here?”

Altair felt embarrassed for following them into what was obviously a private moment. Heat rising to his cheeks, he scratched his hair nervously as he replied.

“W-well, I, er… I noticed you two split off from the rest of the groups and I kind of just followed… and then I saw you come in here, the girls' bathroom… I just… well,” he muttered.

Harry snorted. “I guess I can’t blame you for wondering what we were doing in here of all places,” he chuckled softly, before shifting, his face becoming more serious. “Ro-, _we_ , upset Hermione earlier, and when she missed the feast, we realised she wouldn’t know about the troll…”

“I told you to just go AWAY!” Hermione screamed hysterically, interrupting their conversation and causing Altair’s ears to ring.

Ron and Harry stared at each other, looking hopeless. Just as Altair was going to suggest trying a different tactic - for example, breaking the door down and dragging the girl to the safety of their common room – the most terrible odour permeated the room. Grimacing in disgust, they all covered their faces, gagging behind their hands.

“What on Earth is that foul stench?” Altair groaned, feeling nauseated and squeezing his eyes shut.

BANG!

The noise shook the room as the door imploded inwards, sending wood and chunks of bathroom tiles flying into the room. Altair ducked in shock and fear, narrowly avoiding the debris. Perhaps it was Granger’s magic lashing out due to her mood? He looked up to ask the others if they thought the same when he noticed that they were not even moving.

Instead, Ron and Harry’s eyes were fixated on something behind Altair. Their faces had turned ghostly white with horror and their mouths were agape. Time seemed excruciatingly slow as Altair twisted his head to see what they were staring at.

A monstrous mountain troll loomed over them, a large club in its hand resting against the remnants of the door.

_Of course, it’s the bloody troll. Why wouldn’t it be the troll? Naturally it has a weapon almost as large as my whole body… It had to break down the door somehow… The door, which was the only escape from the bathroom. The door, which was now ruined and blocked by a BLOODY TROLL._

Altair’s thoughts were coming in a rapid jumbled panic as he froze, his mind unable to conjure a coherent thought on how one exactly deals with being trapped in a room with a troll quadruple the size of oneself. He was not sure whether he was about to laugh or cry and ended up emitting an embarrassing whimper.

Luckily, a painful force barrelling into his side and physically pulling him shook him out of his stupor. Harry manhandled him towards where he and Ron were standing near Granger’s cubicle.

“We’re trapped!” Harry whispered, anxiously. “Hermione, you need to get out of there, there’s a troll in here!” His voice sounded too loud to Altair’s ears, which were still ringing.

The troll was still stood in the ruined doorway, staring in and seeming confused that they were in there. It soon regained its composure, to the boy’s dismay, and haphazardly stamped into the room. The troll let out a roar as it smashed the cubicles on the other side of the room, causing the weak materials to cascade like dominoes and sending more splintered wood and debris exploding into the room.

Hermione screamed loudly as her cubicle began to collapse in on itself, and Ron only just managed to pull her out in time before the whole thing was destroyed, leaving only a few boards of wood that they could crouch behind.

“W-what do we do?” Altair hissed, his hand gripping onto Harry’s arm tightly.

“I don’t know!” Harry replied. “But we need to get out of here somehow…”

They flinched as the troll demolished the sinks with the club, sending water spraying out and half flooding the floor.

“We n-need to distract it somehow,” Ron insisted. “I can do that… but we still need to find a way out of here!”

“T-Trolls have really sensitive eyes,” Hermione whispered, her eyes red rimmed from crying and wide with panic, flinching as the troll scraped its club along the ground.

“We don’t have time to think! Just… follow my lead!” Ron suggested, before rolling out from behind their defense and throwing a loose piece of wood at the opposite corner of the room. “O-Oi! OI! L-LOOK HERE, COME FOR ME! COME FOR ME!” he chanted, running to the other side of the room, kicking various pieces of glass and wood as he went.

The troll growled in confusion, and began waving its club around wildly, stepping ominously close to Ron.  

“He’s trapped in a corner with it! We need to _do something_!” Altair shouted at Harry and Granger, looking around for something that they could use to help.

The troll raised its club, bringing it down swiftly into the corner where Ron was crouching and distracting the lumbering beast. They all screamed in horror, dreading it hitting Ron. Luckily, the club got caught on a remnant of a stall jutting out from the wall, causing the troll to lose momentum and drop its weapon to the ground.

Thinking fast, Altair flicked his wand at the club: “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” he intoned precisely, levitating the club sloppily towards the troll’s head. Aiming for the eyes, he flicked his wand violently and jabbed it right in the face.

The troll let out a loud cry of pain, clutching its face and grasping blindly for the club.

Harry took this opportunity to charge at the troll and jump on its back. “What are you doing?!” Altair gasped in horror, his wand shaking as he wrestled his magic to get control over the club before the troll did. _“Wingardium Leviosa_!” This time, Altair managed to precariously balance the club high above the troll’s head.

The confused troll was trying to throw Harry off its back, shifting around dramatically to shake him off. However, Harry was fast where the troll was slow and managed to gain leverage, wrapping his arms around the troll’s thick neck. “Hit him now!” Harry shouted as the troll’s hands began scampering to get him off.

Altair hastily cancelled the spell, causing the club to fall dramatically and hit the troll right on the top of its head. The troll groaned, tilting forward as it became unbalanced. Harry leaned over the troll and stuck his wand deep into the troll’s nose, causing it to lose consciousness and collapse to the floor, Harry still on it’s back. Harry jumped off the troll, rushing to help Ron get away from the wrecked corner of the room and congregating where Altair and Hermione were huddled.

Granger cried, thanking them all for saving her, and Ron apologised for being so cruel to her. “It doesn’t matter now, thank you for helping me. I would have d-died, had you not shown up…” she expressed, hugging Ron and Harry, before turning to Altair and doing the same.

“If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what we would have done without you, Altair,” Harry said.

“I didn’t do much… you guys were the brave ones… you jumped on its back!” Altair replied, still jittery from the experience.

“I was so panicked that I didn’t even think of doing magic, but you did,” Ron said. “We’ll make a Gryffindor out of you yet mate!” he grinned.

“Er… thanks, but no thanks,” Altair grimaced, making the three lions laugh.

Even after the soft chatter and attempts at humour, they were all still bedraggled, traumatised messes by the time Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape appeared. Professor Snape deducted points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for their ‘foolish behaviour’, much to Altair’s horror before he left, stalking away, his gait impeded due to a subtle limp. Thankfully, McGonagall immediately rewarded the points back to the students, telling them all that what they did was very stupid, but very brave. She then escorted them through the halls, dropping Altair at Ravenclaw tower as the rest of them returned to the Gryffindor common room.

Altair did not waste any time in his common room, evading questions from his housemates and did not even bother to shower off the grime from the battle as he fell into his bed, falling asleep immediately in his relief to have survived the encounter and escaped.

 

* * *

 

 

After a much-needed sleep and a long, sterilising shower, Altair made it through the next day with no further drama or horrible creatures. As the students reflected on that night in the following days, many questions popped into their minds, mainly: what was a troll doing here in the first place? Altair had decided against telling his cousin about the encounter, fearful that Draco would tell his aunt and uncle, and that they would punish him or cause a commotion. Draco had, however, noticed the new-found closeness that he held with the Gryffindor trio after their experience, and Altair could sense his brewing jealousy and resentment. Thankfully, had had not yet been too dramatic besides physically dragging Altair away from them if he caught them spending too much time together.

Altair begged Professor Snape to not tell his aunt and uncle, but was not sure if he succeeded, as the Potions master remained furious with Altair’s involvement. The dour man had been snappy towards Altair in Potions, holding him behind after class one time to ask why he was even in Ravenclaw if he was determined to act like a brash, idiotic, Gryffindor, much to Altair’s mortification.

Thankfully, things seemed to return to normal after the chaotic evening of Hallowe’en. After even a few days, the excited chatter about the troll died down, since most students returned straight to their common rooms, like they were supposed to. Altair did not regret going after Harry and Ron; he would have felt devastated if he had ignored their sneaking and found out that they were injured, or worse, that they had not gone after Hermione. In any case, it was nice to fall back into a semblance of a routine, and Altair hoped that nothing dramatic would happen any time soon.

Of course, retrospectively, it would probably have been better for him to expect the unexpected.

Altair’s little study group continued to meet in the weeks leading up until Christmas break. It was nearing the end of November, when Harry and Ron and Hermione asked to speak to Altair alone after the group ended. Draco lingered for a while, staring suspiciously at the ‘golden trio’, as they had been dubbed, before he left after assurances from Altair that he was fine. After he slinked away, Harry beckoned Altair closer to them where they were sat at one of the tables.

“Altair, do you remember Hagrid? He’s the one that took me to Diagon Alley and took us on the boats on our first day,” Harry asked, whispering excitedly

Altair raised an eyebrow. “As if anyone could forget him, he tends to stand out in a crowd, doesn’t he? Or rather, stands above them,” he snickered maliciously.

“Har-har, very funny. I’m sure he’s never heard that one before,” Harry droned sarcastically. “Anyway, me and Ron-“

“ _Ron and I_ ,” Hermione corrected, sounding exasperated. “How many times do I have to go through this with you? Honestly.”

Ron shot her a frustrated glare. “Hermione, you said you’d stop doing that!” he whined petulantly. “Come on, Harry, just hurry up and tell him the plan!”

“I can’t exactly tell him the plan if I don’t tell him-“

“For Salazar’s sake, just bloody tell me whatever you’re trying to, please?” Altair snapped, frustrated at the squabbling. Harry flushed and shot a quelling gaze at Ron and Hermione before he started again.

“Anyway, _Ron and I_ , visited Hagrid for some tea. For some reason, he had one of the older newspapers. I think he uses them as pads for Fang to pee on when it’s too cold outside or something,” he said, ignoring Altair’s grimace of distaste. “And it had an article in it about an attempted robbery in the summer. Not only was it on the same day that me an- Hagrid and I- went there – when we met, remember? But me n’ Hagrid visited that same vault!” Altair smirked at Hermione’s glare before turning back to listen to Harry. “Meaning that whatever it is, is being kept here in Hogwarts!” he announced, his eyes glittering with excitement.

Altair had to admit to himself that his curiosity was piqued, however he did not want to show it having had enough “adventure” after the troublesome troll. “I mean, I see the logic… But what do you think the item is exactly?” he queried.

Harry and Ron shared a victorious look before leaning closer to Altair. “I’m glad you asked,” Harry quipped. “I think we should find out, don’t you?”

“Riiiight... and, er, how exactly do you plan on doing that?” he asked nervously, feeling like he was setting himself up to be trapped due to the gleeful expressions on the boys' faces. Hermione just rolled her eyes when he tried to gauge what she thought, as thoughshe must have already been through this.

“Come on mate – I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be smart?” Ron enquired, smirking alongside Harry. “After all, it’s so obvious.”

“The forbidden third-floor corridor!” The duo announced together.

Altair looked bemusedly at Hermione, who was now scowling. “What they’re trying to do is convince you to come with them on their pea-brained plan of sneaking to the third floor after hours, to find out what this mysterious object is. I came along in the hope that you would talk them out of this idiocy,” she huffed.

“N’awwh come on, ‘Mione, after we all saved you? Don’t you think we deserve a bit of fun?” Ron teased, earning a smack from the girl.

“Was facing down a troll not ‘fun’ enough for you Gryffindors?” Altair asked. “Do you really want to go traipsing around a corridor that has been forbidden due to danger of death?”

The boys blinked at him, smiling benignly, before they nodded.

“Yeah, you can count me out. Had enough excitement for a life time I think,” he muttered, standing up and avoiding looking at their pouts.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you want to know what it is? Nobody has broken into Gringott’s in years, and certainly nobody has ever escaped!” Harry burst out dramatically. “Hagrid got so weird when we asked about it, so they’re clearly hiding something!”

“For a reason,” Hermione sighed, although her face was resigned.

“I mean, it is interesting… and I guess it would be fun to explore…” Altair looking around slowly, feeling slightly guilty for going along with their excitement. “Just, how exactly do you plan to get there? Without us getting expelled, preferably…”

He cringed internally when Harry and Ron opened their mouths to explain their idea, knowing he had stepped through the veil into Gryffindoresque curiosity, and that he would go along with it.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Why didn’t I talk them out of it?_  he questioned himself later, as he successfully sneaked through the halls to the meeting place on second floor.  After they met, they snuck around the school for a while, knowing that the corridor was locked from the Charms side. However, Ron had supposedly had a tip-off from his older twin brothers, that part of the staircase would go haywire occasionally and land right in front of it. It took around fifteen minutes of hiding behind a statue, before they were in the third-floor corridor, which had several “no entry” signs and empty classrooms. Eventually, they came across a locked door which Hermione easily unlocked, allowing them to enter and see what secrets the third floor hid.

A Cerberus.

A three-headed, gigantic, vicious dog was hidden on the third floor. Behind a door that could be opened with a simple ‘ _alohomora_ ’; a first-year charm. They managed to escape its snapping jaws and sharp teeth, rushing away from the corridor.

However, they ended up running straight into Filch as they made it to the stairs. The miserable child-hating caretaker immediately issued them all with detentions, to be served straight after the Christmas break.

Altair hated himself for noticing the trapdoor that the beast had been hiding, as he felt the fever that his Gryffindor friends had developed, frenzied with intrigue to find just what it was guarding. He wondered if it was perhaps time to write a letter home about just what the halls of Hogwarts contained…

In the last week before term ended, Harry, Ron and Hermione found Altair in the library, rushing over to him and speaking in excited, hushed tones.

“Altair! Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?” Harry questioned urgently.

“It… sounds familiar? I can’t think where I have heard of him before though, why?” Altair replied after a moment of thinking.

“Well, we just met with Hagrid again, and he mentioned the three-headed dog – by accident of course- and it turns out that it’s Hagrid’s,” Harry expressed.

“-And Hagrid named it _Fluffy_ -” Ron interjected, grimacing.

“So, we asked what it was guarding, you know, ‘cause of the trapdoor and Hagrid got all flustered and was like, 'that’s between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!'. The only issue is that we don’t know who Flamel _is,_ ” Harry sulked.

“Ugh, sorry… I feel like I’ve read it somewhere, I can have a look when I go back home for Christmas,” Altair suggested, though he would have to be subtle, as they wanted to keep it a secret.

“We’re both staying here this Christmas, so we can make use of the library,” Ron said, gesturing to himself and Harry.

“Shame I won’t be here to see you two do that, in fact I’d say the times you have 'made use of the library' is almost as rare as a bloody Cereberus,” Altair smirked at them.

“I’m going home too,” Hermione whined. “But I can take some books, and have a look at what I can find, of course!”

They each resolved to spend some time when they could to secretly hunt for mentions of the man over Christmas, because simply asking someone was deemed too dangerous.

 

* * *

 

 

Altair was sat in Lucius’ study, in one of the comfy yet rigid straight-back armchairs in front of his desk. Draco was sat next to him and had just finished his excited spiel about his year at Hogwarts so far.

“And how has my nephew’s year been so far? I’ve heard good things from your professors about your schoolwork thus far, Altair,” Lucius questioned, a small, content smile graced his face for a second before the mask came back in place.

Altair flushed under the small hint of pride he detected in Lucius’ voice, and avoided Draco’s jealous eyes boring into him from his right.

“I-It’s been really good, thanks!”

“Indeed? Draco told me in a letter of your little study group. I truly must… commend… you for your skills at drawing the houses together for educational purposes. Very noble. _However...”_

Altair swallowed, sensing that he was about to get into trouble.

“I have heard from a certain source regarding the company that you have been favouring of late. A _filthy_ _Mudblood_ named Hermies Grandgie, or some such nonsense,” he hissed as he mangled the name.

“Hermione Granger,” Draco corrected automatically.

Lucius waved his hand, uncaring. “I do, of course, approve of maintaining a positive disposition to such things when in public, such as inviting someone of _their kind_ to your group. What I find deeply unsettling, however, is that you have supposedly been cavorting with the child outside of your club.”

Altair opened his mouth to defend his behaviour, but Lucius held a hand up to silence him.

“Furthermore, not only is this _interloper_ getting you into trouble – yes, I know about the detention – but she is nearly neck and neck with you in classwork. And she is ahead of you, Draco.” The man finished, linking his fingers and holding his hands in front of him as he waited for the children to respond.

“ _Well_?”

“Father, I didn’t know that she was ahead of me, I swear!” Draco ranted. “Even then, it’s only because she’s a walking textbook that sucks up to the professors! I’ll beat her by the end of the year, books can only take you so far.”

“Settle down, Draco. Severus has already told me of her pandering, attention-seeking ways. I have no doubt that you will prove your worth as her better by the end of the year.” He turned to Altair, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Altair muttered, cringing as Lucius’s gaze dissected him. “It… just happened, I guess. At first it was purely educational… but, then… then some th-things happened and well… she became friends with Harry and Ron, and with me too.”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget about the Weasley spawn? Being in cahoots with one of the blood-traitor’s children is almost as bad,” Lucius grimaced. “Honestly, Altair. I must express my disappointment. Evidently we haven’t properly established how one of your status should comport themselves. Just what, exactly, occurred to make you believe them worthy of being your close acquaintances?”

 _Oh Merlin! How am I going to get out of this one?_ He chanced a look at Draco, who was smirking; likely pleased that he was not the one in trouble. Lucius followed Altair’s gaze and snapped at Draco.

“And you, my son, my heir… why did you not correct his behaviour?” he questioned, wiping the smug look off Draco’s face and causing him to sink into his seat.

“It happened on Hallowe’en; a troll got into the school somehow, and we were sent back to our common rooms. Only… only, I didn’t go back to mine.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “And where, exactly, did you go?”

“I… followed Harry and R-Weasley, because I saw them sneak off… and well, we ended up saving her-Granger from the troll.”

Lucius sucked in a sharp breath. “Why was I not informed of this? I shall be having a long overdue conversation with _Headmaster Dumbledore,_ ” he snarled the man’s name. “Is this what you have detention for after Yule? Why so late?”

“Er… we didn’t get detention for that, no. We got detention for… being found on the out-of-bounds corridor, on the third floor.”

“What!? Is that what you lot have been whispering about and sneaking about for? What’s up there?” Draco demanded, looking furious.

“You knowingly went into an off-limits area? Whilst I do not know what, exactly, they have held there, it is common sense to follow the rules strictly! Magic can be very dangerous, Altair, it does not bode well to stick your nose where it does not belong. Would you care to tell me what exactly you found?”

“Nothing,” Altair lied, cringing at Lucius’ shrewd eyes assessing him.

“Nothing,” Lucius parroted back to him, slowly, mockingly. “Draco, leave us.”

“W-what?! Father, that’s not fair, I want to…”

“Out!” Lucius rapped his cane sharply against the desk, the atmosphere growing colder. Draco, flushed with anger stood up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“Tell me, are you protecting yourself or your little friends? Was what you found that bad? I have not been told of any secrets, yet, they close the corridor on threats of danger, and all you received was a measly detention? You could have been expelled for venturing there, I’m sure… or perhaps, was it the Potter heir’s political standing that prevented further comeuppance? Or could it be that what you found was so damning to the headmaster’s reputation that he let you off easy?” Lucius barraged Altair with questions, half of them his own ruminations, his anger waylaid by a hunger for something with which to attack the headmaster.

Altair shivered, unsure whether he should just own up about the Cerberus they found to save himself from furthering his uncle's anger or attempt to lie and deflect to protect his friends' quest to find what the beast was hiding.

Altair was torn, his overwhelming curiosity made him reluctant to tell his uncle anything, lest he be unable to research the topic himself. Maybe uncle Lucius would be able to help them, like tell him who Nicholas Flamel was. Then again, what if he stopped him from looking any further on his own, without telling him anything?

Lucius sensed Altair’s discomfort and fixed the boy with a softer look. “You will not be in trouble for telling me what you found, Altair. Whilst I disprove of your little… adventure… it is most important that you feel welcome to talk about any issues you face at school, especially when they put you in danger.”

Altair sighed, silently agreeing with the man. He was not like his Gryffindor friends, who ran headfirst into danger and kept things to themselves; even Hermione had not wanted to consult a teacher, and Hagrid did not count.

“There’s a Cerberus in the castle,” he admitted.

Lucius sat up straight, his eyes glittering with his fury.

“Those fools, what are they doing keeping such a dangerous creature in the presence of children?!” Lucius hissed. “Thank you for telling me, Altair. I am displeased that you followed your little friends into danger, however I am glad that you escaped unharmed. Such a vicious beast… I shall arrange a meeting with the Minister and the Board of Governors; none of us were alerted to this.”

Lucius dismissed Altair to spend time with Draco, silently seething about what the headmaster had managed to keep hidden.

 

* * *

  

After the boys had left his office, Lucius headed straight to his fireplace and Floo-called Minister Fudge.

The bumbling man answered within minutes, his rotund face leaning down to look at the furious Malfoy.

“L-Lucius! This is a pleasant surprise, how is your Christmas?”

“This is not a social call, Cornelius. I have just been alerted to something rather deplorable that Dumbledore has been keeping in his school.”

Fudge sobered, the smile slipping from his face. “I say! Then, you absolutely must come through at once, Lucius, so that we can discuss things properly.”

Lucius stepped effortlessly through the flames, brushing off any remnants of the powder from his fine robes.

Once they had both settled down in the office with a fine glass of port, Lucius went to town regaling the failures of the current headmaster.

“A-are you sure, Lucius? I cannot see Dumbledore keeping such a terrible creature in the school. Could it not just be a flight of fancy of young Altair?”

“It took me a fair amount of probing to even get the words out of my nephew’s mouth, Cornelius, and he is not a good liar. First, a troll broke into the castle, and the teachers sent all the students back to their common rooms. I heard from Draco that they sent the Slytherins back into the dungeons, where the troll was announced to be!”

“A t-troll! That’s awful, Lucius, and I must confess that I hadn’t been told of such a thing! What is Albus thinking?” Fudge asked, his eyes twitching nervously.

“I doubt that our esteemed headmaster is thinking much at all, Cornelius. How did a troll get in undetected? And how did he smuggle a Cerberus into the castle without any authorisation? Finally, what is he hiding?” Lucius hissed.

“N-now, Lucius. I wouldn’t want to assume anything, I’m sure there must be a reason…”

“There is no reason acceptable enough to be containing one of the most vicious magical creatures in a school with children as young as eleven, Cornelius! Please see sense. The man is endangering our children. Dumbledore has had such a firm grip on our society since the end of the last war, yet it seems it is going too far, and his ego has grown so big that he no longer thinks the law applies to him!”

“Of course, L-Lucius, I didn’t mean that the children weren’t important. Heavens, no. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting, to discuss his reasoning.”

“I say we call him right away, Cornelius. If it wasn’t my nephew to find this and bring this to my attention, just imagine the fallout! Even if the creature is locked away, a first year managed to break in undetected, people could get hurt. Not to mention, this could look bad on the Ministry, as everybody idolises Dumbledore so much, it would surely deflect the attention here. The public would fall into chaos over such a scandal, leaving easy access for Dumbledore to take control of the Ministry!”

“It’s so close to Christmas, though, perhaps there’s a better time…”

“I will withdraw my children from Hogwarts unless we get to the bottom of this, immediately, and I am not above ceasing donations to the education fund,” Lucius threatened.

“There’s n-no need to make threats, my friend! Of course, right away, if you’ll excuse me.” Fudge went over to the Floo and called through to Hogwarts, requesting that Dumbledore join them immediately.

“I hope your Christmas is going well, Cornelius. What is this about?” asked the flamboyantly dressed Headmaster as he stepped through. “Ah, Lucius! I say, this is quite the surprise!”

“Now, A-Albus, dear Lucius here has come to me with some quite concerning news! His nephew has discovered something quite nefarious on the third floor. Why was I not consulted about the Cerberus, and what is its purpose in the school? Surely you understand the concern, they are quite vicious…”

Dumbledore looked surprised. “Why, I thought you were aware, Cornelius! My good friend Elphias Doge passed the bill allowing us to harbour the animal. Whilst I said it was top secret, it certainly wasn’t meant to be kept from you, old chap!”

“What exactly is so secret that you must keep a Ministry XXXX-rated creature in the school, Dumbledore?” Lucius demanded, having no time for the blustering.

Dumbledore eyed Lucius shrewdly over his half-moon spectacles. “Forgive me, Lucius, however I would prefer to discuss that with Cornelius alone; it is a very dangerous topic, you see, and given the circumstances…”

“Absolutely not. I believe I should be present for such a conversation, as I am one of the top members of the Board of Governors. Anything referencing the school and the safety of the students is of upmost importance.”

_I will not let Dumbledore have Fudge to himself, for all he would do is poison his mind against reason, allowing Dumbledore to do as he wishes._

“I agree with Lucius, Albus. This is quite severe. I’m sure we can do a simple secrecy spell, hmm? That way, what is discussed can stay between us.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lost some of their sparkle at Fudge’s agreement, however he seemed to recognise that he was caught.

“Very well, if you think that is what is best, Cornelius. I would ask for an unbreakable vow from both of you regarding the following information.”

“An unbreakable vow! Albus, do you think so little of us? To bind us with our magic...” Cornelius gasped.

“What right do you think you have to command us in such a way, Dumbledore, when you left us in the dark on something of this scale? Surely, you wouldn’t want to lose your position?” Lucius taunted, daring the man to stand up to him.

“I think you’ll find that my paperwork is all verifiable, Lucius. I’m sure that things at the Ministry have been very chaotic, and things often get mislaid. Why I remember one time after the last war, some papers of evidence against... someone... for war-crimes went missing during the trial; the only documents to turn up specified that the person was under spell for the duration of the war anyway!”

Lucius maintained a tight mask at his words, inwardly fuming at the audacity of his veiled accusations. Whilst true, of course…

“N-now, you two… Perhaps a lighter form of the vow would do, not ending in such dire consequences?”

Eventually they agreed to a binding spell, one that would prevent them from speaking about what was revealed, or to do anything involving it unless it directly came to harm a student. Dumbledore did not fail to disappoint with the shocking revelations he made in that office. Lucius was still seething about it all, later, when he had left and returned to his office to nurse some finer alcohol.

To think that the school was hiding the _Philosopher’s Stone_! Men would kill for such a thing, and Lucius could not comprehend why Flamel would willingly hand it over. Whilst Lucius would never need such a thing for monetary gain, even he could not deny the allure of immortality. Why Dumbledore thought the school safer than Gringott’s was beyond him, however he knew that there was a deeper plot at play. With the Dark Lord missing for ten years, and Harry Potter’s arrival at Hogwarts, Lucius could connect the dots. He was horrified at the thought of his Lord potentially approaching the school with his children in it. For the first time in his life, though he would never admit it, he hoped that it was just Dumbledore’s superstition, and that their Lord was well and truly gone.

Lucius warned Altair against investigating the matter any further, and owled Severus, telling him to keep a closer eye on his nephew. Whilst he did not believe Altair knew the significance of the beast being in the school, he was a smart boy, and if his foolish Gryffindor friends encouraged any more adventures he could get into some serious trouble. Such a loss would leave Narcissa and Draco destroyed, and even Lucius had developed quite an attachment to the boy. Lucius advocated to the boys for them to spend more time with each other, and for Draco to distract his cousin from spending so much time around reckless Gryffindors.

After the drama had been contained, the Malfoys enjoyed a pleasant Christmas together. Term was fast approaching, however, and before Lucius knew it he was waving the boys away on the scarlet train. As the train disappeared into the distance, Lucius returned to the manor with a sense of foreboding towards the upcoming months.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know any thoughts/questions/advice.   
> :)  
> -Taisho


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